


Come To Me Bonus Chapters

by SluttySnake



Series: Come To Me [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Pairings, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Dom/sub, Drama, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Kinks, Loki's POV, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Oral Sex, Pansexual Loki (Marvel), Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Sex, alternate endings, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:22:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24255823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SluttySnake/pseuds/SluttySnake
Summary: Bonus chapters of my storyCome To Me, requested by my readers. If you haven't read at least some of it, this probably won't interest you (but it's not like I'm not going to stop you) :)[Currently busy with life, but This_Girl_stans_Marvel has written a fluffy oneshot of my work, which you can readhere]
Relationships: Lady Loki (Marvel)/Reader, Loki (Marvel)/Reader, Loki/Lady Loki/Reader
Series: Come To Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750894
Comments: 31
Kudos: 65





	1. Table of Contents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The table of contents will be updated as I fulfill more requests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on fulfilling requests the last weeks, and finally have the first batch ready! 
> 
> Feel free to continue leaving requests if inspiration strikes at any point! <3

**1: Table of Contents**

**2: Loki's POV of Chapters 1 & 2 **

The first time you meet

**3: Loki's POV of Chapter 31**

The one where Lady Anise makes her first appearance

**4: Loki's POV of Chapter 33**

The one with the ball where Loki kills Lord Nilsen

**5: Alternate Ending of Chapter 38, plus Loki's POV**

The Reader drinks the poisoned wine after all ( **Warning** : Dark)

**6: Smut Between Lady Loki, Loki, and You**

A tiny bit of plot and a lot of smut


	2. Loki POV: Chapter 1 & 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's POV of chapter 1 & 2, requested by This_Girl_stans_Marvel
> 
> The first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no need to re-read any chapters even if it's been a while, since the dialogue is still the same :)
> 
> I decided on a first person internal monologue for these, since Loki's thoughts are what we're after here. His thoughts will very much center on you, and he will even address you directly in his head once he has taken an interest in you. See yourself through his eyes, read his thoughts, and find out exactly which of his actions were nothing but manipulation and deceit. You may be surprised how rose-colored the Reader's glasses were at times :P

I've always disliked balls and celebrations. They're loud, bright, and their only purpose is to put on a show for people you don't care about. Every guest is someone of stature, someone with a degree of influence who will make weighty decisions based on how the mead tastes this night.

The boy I once was would have snuck out to be alone with his books and his experiments, but I am no longer a child. There is a weight upon my head, and I have a duty to be here. I'm the reason they're all here, after all.

I move slowly through the conflux of people, the horns upon my head and the cape around my shoulders enough for them to move aside. Heads bow and knees bend wherever I walk, awe filled eyes turned up at me, flattering smiles thrown in my direction. I do not grace any with my attention, for doing so would only invite conversation.

A few people I know, ministers and diplomats who have worked with me when I was still a prince. They are bolder, addressing me by title and giving me greeting.

"Your majesty, I have always thought you the more capable prince!" a lord fawns at me.

I acknowledge him with a direct gaze, but that is it. I do not wish to partake in dance nor revelry, and so I return to my throne, though I do not take a seat. Standing upon the dais, it is clear that I am above each and every one of them. I do not need to dance. They will not expect me to.

"Ah, King Loki!" a diplomat from Vanaheim greets from the foot of the dais. He bows quickly, waiting for permission to approach.

I turn to him, deliberating, then walk back down the steps to receive him eye to eye.

"Ambassador," I acknowledge him, even going so far as to smile. I did work with him in the past, after all.

"You've truly reached your potential," he begins with a compliment, giving me a hedging smile. "It is a shame what happened to Allfather Odin and Prince Thor, though..."

My smile turns cold, and so does my gaze. " _Former_ Allfather," is all I deign to say.

The ambassador flusters, sweat beading on his brow.

"Right, my apologies, Allfather." He bows again in an attempt to avoid my ire. "Although times have been... tumultuous, relationships between Asgard and Vanaheim still stand as they have been."

"I would hope so," I say, my smile razor sharp.

The ambassador takes it as the dismissal it is and quickly excuses himself. I face the bulk of guests once more, my smile dropping as easily from my face as it appeared. I am almost tempted to take a seat, if only to rest my legs, when I spot a woman in the crowds blatantly dressed in green and gold.

She's helping herself to food off from one of the tables, and I assume she has just arrived. She also seems to be alone, occasionally glancing in my direction.

I step back into the mass of people, pushing in her direction without making it obvious. Whether it is a coincidence she is wearing my colors or not, it is as good a choice as any to take to bed.

"My king!" a woman calls out beside me.

I glance at her, but move past. Most guests respectfully skirt out of my way, but several have grown bold after watching me converse with the diplomat.

"Your majesty, my name is Sir Leon Frederickson, I would like-"

I give him a look that has his mouth falling shut on its own.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to impose."

The woman at the table has turned her back, pouring herself a drink, and I finally push through to her.

She startles when she turns around only to find me before her. Her eyes go wide, and she stares blatantly. I, too, allow my gaze to sweep her form.

She is dressed to seduce, presenting me her body boldly. I decide then to give her my attention.

"Someone's wearing my colors," I remark with a hint of amusement.

"Your majesty," you breathe out, dropping your gaze and curtsying.

This close, it is plain that you are terribly nervous. No other noblewoman would be _quite_ so bold as to ask me to bed in the middle of the event. In fact, few of them will wish to lower their station for just a tussle in my bed. No, they hope for consortship or even marriage. And those that _will_ end up between my sheets, are those growing desperate and increasingly tipsy. Not someone like you.

"Were you hoping for my attention?" I ask, stepping even closer. I will make this easy for you.

"I would not be so forward," you reply with a nervously lowered gaze, but I can tell that this is false politeness. 

I let my disbelief and amusement show on my face. "Oh? So you are here for the party, then? Are you enjoying it?"

You nod eagerly. "Quite, my king."

I see a strong determination in your eyes when you look at me. You don't see a man, or even an object of your lust when you look at me. No, you see a goal.

"A grand party for a grand ruler," you add after a pause, pushing a pleasant smile onto your lips. 

My suspicion only increases, but I reveal none of it in my expression.

"Indeed," I agree, giving you a pleased smile. "Tell me your name. I'm afraid I don't know who you are." 

You hesitate just a fraction of a second, your eyes flickering when you respond.

"I'm... Lady Katharina. It's so great to make your acquaintance."

I'm a little surprised you would lie to me about this, but quickly form a hypothesis about your true intentions. I wasn't expecting an assassin so soon, but now that you are here, I am more than intrigued. I study your form, wondering if you have concealed a weapon anywhere. Perhaps in the front of your revealing dress.

"The pleasure is all mine," I purr, grasping your hand and brushing my lips over your knuckles with a salacious smile. You remain tense even as you pretend to blush, and I have the feeling you have never killed before. Perhaps I should help you.

I don't release your hand, and you throw me a confused look.

"There are perhaps a few hours left of this party," I say, taking in every miniscule change in your expression. "We could, of course, continue exchanging formalities... But I think we both know what you're really here for."

I let you believe I am enticed, and you eagerly take the bait. Anyone who knows me would realize I am playing them, for easy is not a word used to describe me. I am not enticed by anything aside from power.

"Are you sure no one will mind you leaving the party prematurely, your majesty?" you tease, relief in your eyes and suggestiveness on your lips.

"Oh, I'm sure they will," I agree with a hearty chuckle, not wasting more time before pulling you with me to the exit.

You place your cup down and hurry to keep up with my quick strides, briefly glancing behind you at the other guests. I use that moment to take in your asymmetrical gait. There is almost certainly another weapon strapped to your leg.

I pretend to be oblivious, pulling you with me out of the great hall. I am a predator leading its prey back to my lair, but you don't know it yet.

I bring you up to the doors of my chambers, and by then my humor has left me. I know very well this will not be a pleasant tryst.

"I will tell you this, Lady Katharina," I say as I open the doors, "whatever you may be hoping to get from me, you will not get it. I will take from you what I want, and that will be all."

It is a warning, a small mercy I know you will not take. If you try to kill me, I will take _everything_ you have, swiftly and without remorse.

You follow me, foolish thing that you are. I suppose not everyone is born with the intelligence to know when to surrender.

"What makes you think I want anything more than that?" you ask, surprising me.

Perhaps you are more welcoming to the risks than I gave you credit for.

"And I thought you were not to be forward," I chuckle, closing the door behind you. I move over to my table where wine has been set out.

"Care for a drink?" I ask, purposely turning my back toward you.

There's a moment of silence, and I assume you're assessing the situation. Wondering if this is the time to strike. Again, if you knew me at all, you would not trust me even when my back is turned.

"Yes, I'd love a drink," you reply, a new tension to your voice, most likely caused by the adrenaline now rushing through your veins.

I take this as confirmation that you will strike. Nodding to myself, I pick up the pitcher and begin pouring the wine. The entire time, my senses are trained on your presence behind me, my sensitivity to seidr keeping me perfectly aware of everything you are doing.

The very moment you draw your knife and aim it for my throat, I drop the pitcher and catch your wrist, twisting my body and your arm in the same motion and slamming against the table, your knife swiftly plucked from your hand.

Your face collides with the wooden surface, causing you to try and reel back, but you are immobile beneath me. You splutter from the wine spilled everywhere, blood trickling from your nose and eyes wide with fear. I feel nothing but cruel satisfaction as I watch you struggle.

"Little assassin," I hiss, taunting you. "Did you think I would not know? Did you truly think you could kill me?" 

You grunt and attempt to kick at me, so I lean down and apply more pressure to your arm with my entire body. You immediately go still, gasping in pain.

"I knew the minute you walked in what your intentions were," I say in a low voice, right beside your ear.

Your eyes are still wide, and now a shiver goes through you. I do not judge you for such a reaction. You seem rather innocent, and such an adrenaline rush must be a powerful sensation

"You wanted my attention," I continue. "You've got it." 

Your first knife is safely in my hand, but I am still fairly certain you have a second one strapped to your leg. I reach down and drag the hem of your dress upwards, my fingers skimming your leg.

You flinch, and then you go very still, like a cornered prey animal. It sends a thrill through me, your terrified surrender. I find the sheath of your dagger and pull it out, letting your dress fall back into place.

"Do you know what happens now, little assassin?" I coo, releasing you and stepping back.

You stand slowly, seemingly trying to collect yourself. You wipe at your face before slowly turning to me, your eyes fearful for a moment before you get your expression under control.

"You're going to execute me," you say, your voice surprisingly steady. "Well, get it over with." 

A smile curls over my lips. Brave little thing, aren't you?

"Eager to die, are we?" I step forward, which puts me right in front of you, cornering you against the table. I still have your knives in my hand, and so I lift one up and drag the point over your lips.

To my great satisfaction, I hear your breath catch, your eyes flickering nervously to the blade.

"You know what I really want," I demand coldly. "It's not every day that someone comes to murder me. Who sent you?" 

"No one," you lie instantly, flinching when your lips move against the knife. "I work alone." 

I narrow my eyes in warning, sliding the blade to your cheek and applying some pressure. It is insultingly obvious you are not telling the truth, your eyes flickering away from mine for just a moment.

"Don't lie to me," I warn coldly, digging the point into your soft cheek until blood beads out. You flinch, but you hold still.

"I'm telling the truth," you double down, and although you look only at the knife now, I still hear the waver of lies in your voice. "If you don't believe me, you might as well kill me. I won't change my answer." 

"Katharina," I growl, quickly getting your attention. I do not care if it is a false name; it is the one I will use. "You don't know what I'm capable of. I could crush you like an insect beneath my boot."

Your gaze is locked to mine, fearful at the thought of dying, and yet determined to meet your fate. Still, I see something else in your eyes. Something... pleading.

"But I think you do not truly wish to die," I change direction, softening my tone greatly. "If you simply tell me what I want to know, you will walk free." 

It is a lie, of course. I will do nothing of the sort, whether you obey or not. But you aren't very good at detecting lies, it seems.

Your expression changes, losing some of its fear and growing in determination. The yearning, however, remains.

"Kill me," you push out, so stubborn. "I know that's what you want." 

Perhaps I will. I care little about who sent you or what your reasons were. I care about giving you what you deserve.

"How do you want to die?" I whisper, letting all emotion leave my gaze as I reach up to cup your cheek.

You fluster under my touch, your eyes widening and your pulse racing. The way you stare at me, I would almost think you are... excited by all this.

"Make it quick," you answer, your voice breathier than before. You're afraid—I can see that—but you push it down. "And painless." 

There are many ways I _could_ kill you. Painlessly, of course. But quick... it is not _quite_ so easy to end a life. I'd have to retrieve a weapon, brew a potion, tie a noose... and in that time you would be so very, very afraid. I can't be merciful in this way. But I can give you a _slow_ death. An intimate one.

"No death is truly quick," I tell you. "If you know what's coming, fear will torment you. You're afraid, aren't you?" 

I stroke my fingers down your neck, pressing them down against your artery and feeling the hot, fearful pulse of blood.

Your breath stutters, your gaze becoming frantic. I know you don't want to die, no matter what you claim.

"...Kill me with poison," you burst out, clearly losing your composure. "Uhm... A special kind of poison. You probably don't have it here."

I've never had someone _request_ to be poisoned before. I ponder this, tracing your jaw with my thumb.

"And what poison might that be?" I ask, solely out of curiosity, not because I'll actually go out of my way to get it.

"Uh, it's..." You stumble over your words, repeatedly glancing down at my hand. My absentminded touch seems to be distracting you.

Suddenly, certainty fills your eyes and you meet my gaze straight on. "The sweetest of all poisons." 

I almost let my surprise show on my face. The sweetest of all poisons? Is that not what they call love? Well, I've never received such a bold declaration before. I'm not sure what to make of it, but at least I now understand the yearning I've seen in your gaze.

"You wish to die..." I deliberately lean in, dropping my voice to a suggestive murmur. "...of love?" 

Your reaction is instant, your eyes widening and your body leaning away from me.

"Not love!" you fluster, almost panicked at my interpretation.

"That's good, because I love no one," I tell you, leaning back a little. "But are you... in love with me?" 

It is a bold question, but I want an answer. You are hiding something from me, something I assume you're trying to hide even from yourself.

You fluster again, almost looking offended, before you get defensive once more.

"This is a matter of who kills whom," you sneer. "I'd say love has no place here." 

"Perhaps not love, no," I concede, correcting my earlier thought. "But you are enamored with me. For one reason or another, you wish me dead so badly, you walk into my bedchambers with no certainty of what might happen." 

Your defenses remain up this time.

"That's my job," you whisper, holding my gaze. I see you lift your hand from my peripheral, perhaps hoping to snatch your weapon back, were I distracted. I am not.

I step back, out of your reach. I could overpower you again, easily, but there is no need.

"Why don't you have a seat," I offer, gesturing to one of my chairs. "You are my guest, after all." 

If you are keeping on your toes, I will, too. You give me a suspicious look, but go to sit down, never breaking eye contact. I channel my seidr through the air, bringing ropes from my dimensional storage and swiftly tying your arms down. You shoot me a glare, but don't struggle.

"Look, my little assassin, all I want are a few answers," I say pleasantly. "Give them to me, and you walk free. You can go on with your life as you please." 

It's a lie, of course, once again. If you are indeed foolish enough to believe me, I am going to take advantage of it.

You say nothing. Almost disinterestedly, you test the strength of the ropes, pointedly ignoring me. Not so foolish, then.

"You are not really Lady Katharina, are you?" I switch tracks, assuming you will at least answer that. "What might I call you instead?" 

You continue to ignore me, staring at the ropes you have failed to pull out of. It isn't as though I need a name to call you by.

"Nothing? Alright, then I will simply call you my little kitten," I say, fully intent to rile you up. "Fitting, don't you think? You are nothing but a small, helpless _kitten_." 

Now you do look up and shoot me a glare. "I am not a kitten, and I am certainly not yours!" 

Ah, there we go.

"But you could be," I say immediately, smirking slightly. "You certainly know how to get my attention. Every criminal must pay their dues, and you could pay yours by pledging eternal servitude to me. I would allow it, just this once." 

This time, I speak the truth.

You scoff at me, dislike in your gaze. "I would never surrender my dignity to you." 

I can't say I'm pleased with your answer, narrowing my eyes.

"You wish to die instead?" I ask. 

"It's an easy choice," you taunt, smirking at me.

"Alright," I agree instantly, leaning over you. "If it's poison you want, I've got it." 

The knives I took from you will do perfectly for this. I focus on changing their very matter, letting them fall onto your lap just as they transform into two venomous snakes. I am fully prepared to have them bite you and end your life.

I watch you go stiff, staring at them in panic, and then you scream. I make them slither up your arms, causing you to struggle frantically.

"No, please, not like this!" you beg, frantic with fear. "Loki, I changed my mind, I'll... I'll swear you servitude. Please, my king!" 

I'm a little surprised at your extreme reaction, your easy change of mind. I search your face for any sign of dishonesty, but find nothing but fear. Alright, I shall see what you are willing to do for me.

I hold out my arm, moving the snakes off you by letting them coil around it.

"Seems she doesn't like you," I say to them, lifting them toward my face. I scratch them under their chins, despite them still being daggers at their core. After a moment, I move them to my pocket dimension where they return to their original state.

"What a pitiful assassin you are," I mock, looking back at you. "You fail to kill me, you reveal to me your greatest fear, and you no less than beg for your servitude."

You merely gaze up at me, breathing heavily from relief. I also see a glimmer of hope in your eyes, guessing you will attempt to kill me again now that I've let you live. It is no threat to me.

"I wonder what lengths you would go to in order to kill me," I say aloud. "But for now, tell me why you want me dead."

You straighten up, hatred returning to your gaze as you finally answer.

"Because you're cruel. You waste the resources of this land for your own worship, not caring who goes without a meal. You're a narcissist who loves being in charge and having people cower in fear at your arrival." 

I laugh at that. What a naive worldview to have for an assassin.

"You are very right about that," I agree, because I have no need to argue. "And the best part is, no one is there to take this from me. Not my father, not my brother. Especially not you, little kitten." 

I taunt you again with the nickname, and you grit your teeth to my delight.

"Not for lack of trying," you mutter disdainfully. "You murdered your family!" 

I have to laugh again at your naivety. If I had the power to simply _murder_ them, they would have died when I was still a child.

"Murdered?" I mock. "No, no, their disappearance was merely a tragic accident. Now, I believe we were about to have a glass of wine together." 

Still amused at your anger, I stride to my table, returning the spilled wine to the pitcher and letting your ropes fall away in the same process.

You stand up, and I hand you a goblet, giving you a mirthless smile.

Your expressions turns suspicious, staring into the wine as if there could be another snake in there.

"I'm not drinking this," you declare with a huff. "This is probably drugged, or poisoned, or-" 

Growing increasingly annoyed by your childishness, I snatch the goblet back, drink a mouthful of the sweet wine, and hand it back.

"There. Safe enough for you now?" I mock.

You shoot me a distrustful look, but take a small sip.

I give you a sardonic smile and sit down on my sofa with my own wine. Finally, I remove my helmet, knowing I can let my guard down a little. I pat the space next to me when you don't move, taking a drink to calm my nerves.

You hesitate, but come over and stiffly take a seat.

"There, isn't this so much better?" I sigh, throwing you a salacious smile. "Instead of killing me, you get to enjoy my company. A pleasure few will receive." 

You scoff, avoiding my gaze and instead staring into your cup.

"Come now, kitten, this is supposed to be fun," I coax exaggeratedly. 

"How can it be, when we both want each other dead," you respond drily. It seems you've given up fighting for now.

"Oh, I have much better use for you alive," I say, smirking into my goblet.

"Well, I don't," you reply bitterly. It amuses me.

"Sure you don't, kitten," I facetiously agree. "It's hard to imagine the benefits my good graces could bring you." 

"Like not getting executed?" you scoff, shooting me an unamused look. "Right, and all that will cost is my pride." 

The power may be getting to my head, but I cannot help but tease you further.

"You know, you could be a lot more respectful," I muse, feigning a thoughtful expression. "A little 'your majesty' here and 'my king' there will greatly improve my interest in your derisive words." 

"Oh, excuse my insolence, my great and wonderful king," you respond with heavy sarcasm, which only serves to amuse me further.

"That's better, kitten," I praise, delighted by your reactions. "Now, as long as you curtsy when I enter the room, you're set." 

"Wouldn't you rather I drop to my knees?" you snark, and I smile into my wine.

"Of course, that would be preferable," I agree with a nod. "I'd really like to see you on your knees." 

You immediately puff up in anger. "Then I'll make sure to never do that!" 

"Oh, don't be like this, kitten," I tease. "I'm not so bad, you'll see. I can be quite rewarding." 

"I'd rather dig my heels into the ground every step of the way if it means making your life difficult," you declare, scowling like a difficult child. As much as it amused me before, there is only so much disrespect I tolerate. 

"I thought you were a smart woman, Katharina," I warn. "It's not wise to test my patience." 

Some of the petulance drains from your face, unease replacing it.

"I'm not afraid of you," you say, looking directly at me.

I challenge you with my gaze. "A bold statement, after what just happened, don't you think?" 

"I'm afraid of snakes," you quip. "Not egocentric men." 

And there it is again—your stubbornness. I laugh lightly, but it is not a friendly one. "You are quite something. A fiery spirit that will, as all will, yield." 

"I would never-" 

I've had enough of your retorts, and so I lean into your personal space and slide my fingers into your hair, tilting your head as if to kiss you.

You freeze in place, eyes wide and breath momentarily halted. I can see your desire, your need to be dominated. Something even you don't fully realize is there.

"Have you realized, yet, how much you want me, or should I hold a knife to your throat again?" I murmur darkly. 

"Wha- what?" you stammer, staring at me like a frightened rabbit.

"Shhh," I quiet you, laying my finger on your lips. "Listen to your body. Won't it feel so much better to simply surrender, to let me show you what would have happened, had you never tried to kill me?" 

I'm sure you never imagined getting such an offer from a king, but perhaps, deep inside, you always dreamed of it.

"No, I don't want you," you disagree weakly, and even you should realize how unconvincing that sounds. 

"Yes, you do," I correct you, leaning ever closer. You've had plenty of time to move away by now. "You felt excitement when I held your knife to your skin. You may think you hate me for my cruelty, but the truth is, you love it. You want me to take you, to make you mine. You want to be at my mercy. You never wanted to kill me. This is much more fun for you, no?" 

I know you came to me because something inside you was missing the thrill only I can offer. I tighten my grip in your hair, watching you react to my dominance, your resolve weakening.

"No-" you begin, but I don't let you speak.

"Do not lie to me, kitten," I scold. "It's too late. The truth is written on your face."

You give me a desperate, confused look, begging me to take control.

"Think about it," I continue, letting the silvered words flow freely. "Think of how your associates will feel when they see you in my arms. When they hear how I fucked you, over and over, until you were a mess in my arms. When they see the evidence of our sin on your skin, in the clothes you wear for me. How horribly wrong it will all be, and yet so, so intoxicating. I will poison you just like you wanted, kitten. I will destroy you. Watch you fall to your ruin. That's what you want, isn't it? That's what you came here for."

I am confident now. Each of my words are imbued with power, with control and certainty. I know more about the chaos and darkness we keep hidden inside us than anyone else. I've seen the worst of people, sides they never dared to show until _I_ brought it out of them. When you stand at a ledge, _I_ am the voice that tells you to jump, and when you beg the universe to _destroy_ you, I will be there to _tear you apart_.

You tremble in my grip, and I know you have accepted the truth.

"You didn't come here to kill," I whisper, my gaze burning into you. "You came here to die."

You are unresisting as I pull your head up and slide my cold lips over yours.

* * *

You clutch at me, staring wide-eyed in fear and shock. Our lips touch intimately, our breaths mingling, but this is hardly a kiss. It is an exchange of power, an act of your surrender and my triumph.

I pull away a hair's breadth, letting you breathe.

"Loki," you whisper shakily, and the sound goes straight to my cock.

I can feel arousal stirring in my pants, fed by the power you have given me.

"King," I correct, my lips almost still touching yours.

Your breaths hit me in short, frantic bursts, your panicked eyes searching my face, until wisely, you pull away and turn your head. You touch your goblet of wine to your lips and gulp down the contents in one go.

"Easy," I warn.

"What do you want?" you gasp when you lower it again. "How- Why would you- You're going to humiliate me! You're going to humiliate me before you kill me!" 

I consider you, feeling calm where you are frantic. _That_ is what you're worried about here?

"Humiliate you?" I repeat, pretending to consider it. "I will destroy you, hurt you, make you _beg_ for me, make you belong to me, make you drive yourself into ruin for me, and yes, perhaps you'll be dead by the end of it, but I don't intend to humiliate you. That would be far too crude." 

My words are mocking, biting, but I can't help myself.

"I-" You practically trip frantically getting up from the sofa. "I won't let you!" 

Your gaze flits around my chambers, your whole body turning in search for something to use against me.

I sigh inaudibly, setting down my goblet and getting to my feet. When you briefly go still, I poise myself, catching you before you make it to my desk.

I take you by the wrist, swiftly twisting it behind you and slamming down on the table. This time, I am careful not to hit your head in the process.

You grunt in anger, struggling against me, but there is nothing you can do against my carefully trained strength.

"You liked it when I held you here, didn't you?" I taunt cruelly. "Had you hoped my hand would move just a little further up your leg?" 

I know my power turns you on. I also know that this is not reason enough to take you as mine. You, however, don't know otherwise.

You squirm in my grip, looking fixedly at the candleholder you were trying to reach.

"You're a criminal, little kitten," I purr, placing my hand on your lower back and rubbing it through your dress. "And criminals must be punished. You want to be punished, don't you?" 

This is not seduction. This a power play, a way to force my would-be assassin to her knees. To destroy her.

"I'm not a kitten!" you snap, but your body is yielding to me.

"Don't forget, you swore me your servitude," I remind you lightly. "You're weak. Helpless. A kitten. _My_ kitten." 

As much lust as my words might spark inside you, their purpose is to cut down your confidence. To ease you into submission. I have no intention of showing you mercy. I will confuse you until you cannot tell the difference between cruelty and desire.

You grunt and struggle against my grip, but I push you down harder, holding you still. I can see you warring with yourself, your body language speaking of shame and arousal. It is a natural reaction for someone like you, and I am exploiting it fully.

"What are you doing to me?" you gasp, your innocence endearing as you rub your thighs together.

"Making you realize what a whore you are," I growl, cutting down any self-esteem you may have had. I press my hips against your rear, allowing you to finally feel my arousal, become truly aware of what I plan to do to you. You still look as though you don't believe me.

"You think I've drugged you, or cast a spell on you, don't you?" I ask, grinding lightly against you. "Well, let me make this clear now. Your desire for me comes out of your own depraved mind." 

"No," you gasp, but you can't help but grind back against me, seeking friction. "No, I won't let you take my pride from me!" 

Cutting down your self-esteem is only half the game. The other half, is to tie your entire self-worth directly to _me_.

"There is nothing wrong with being a slut," I tell you softly, grunting at the way you grind against my cock. "Your pride will only leave you if you let it. If you keep lying to yourself." 

I grab the skirt of your dress, pulling up and over your thighs until I can see the sweet little wet spot in your undergarments. At the same time, you stop struggling.

"And what a slut you are," I remark with a cruel huff of amusement. "Come now, don't be upset." 

I lay the skirt of your dress onto your back and begin kneading the bared skin of your ass. You gasp, flushing in arousal.

"You came here wanting something. This is it," I tell you. "When I first saw you, I saw the lust in your eyes. The fear, the nervousness. Did you volunteer for this mission? Or were you selected?" 

"I..." You hesitate, but then tell me anyway. "I was selected." 

"No doubt because you could play the part so well, hm?" I taunt, my claim based on absolutely no evidence. It doesn't matter, however, for I let my hands slide over your thighs and you believe me.

"So convincing, your desire to be led into my bedchambers."

You gasp needily, attempting to stay quiet, and failing. I squeeze the soft flesh of your thighs, pulling your legs open with no resistance.

"Look how wet you are," I purr. "Look how much your sick mind craves me."

I drag two fingers over the wet spot in your panties, gently rubbing you and making you writhe. You whimper with need, legs shaking as you are overcome with lust.

"Do you want this, whore?" I ask, perhaps a bit harshly.

You make a wordless sound, something desperate.

"What was that?" I growl impatiently, pressing my fingers hard against your clit and rubbing back and forth in a way I assume is slightly painful.

You whimper, but you buck back against me.

"I'm not a whore," you insist with a whine. 

I laugh coldly. "Then why are you bent over my desk, legs apart, your cunt soaking wet in front of me?" 

"Do it," you whine, going limp in resignation while continuing to grind against my hand.

"Do what?" I question, narrowing my eyes at your back.

"Fuck me. Do... what you must. I won't resist." 

The audacity to pretend you have no part in this irritates me immensely. Swiftly, I draw my hand away and bring it down against your rear. You lurch against the desk, moaning out from the impact.

"You're making it sound as if I'm forcing you," I growl. "No, little slut, I want you to own up to your desires. Say that you want this." 

You make a petulant sound, but say nothing.

I don't claim to be moral, but taking you solely through physical force is a disgusting thought. I care little about violating you. This is about power, about getting your willing submission. Severely irritated, I release my hold on you and step back.

You wait for a moment, seemingly expecting my touch to return, but when it doesn't, you slowly look over your shoulder at me.

"Just take me," you urge, desperation in your voice. "Get it over with." 

"Not until you say what I want you to say," I roughly remind you.

"I want..." You hesitate. "I want you to fuck me." 

I smirk cruelly. "Good. Now say it nicely." 

"What?" Your expression is delightful. Broken, pleading.

I say nothing, continuing to smirk at you. I know I've won.

Slowly, you turn your head away, staring in front of you.

"Please, your majesty," comes a broken whisper. "Please fuck me."

There we go. I've successfully taken the reins of your self-destructive behavior, and now _I_ will destroy you.

I make an approving sound, stepping back behind you. I quickly pull down your useless panties, staring at the glistening skin beneath. Your body is begging to be fucked, so desperate to be dominated.

I reach out with my hand, dragging two fingers through your slickness before pressing them inside you.

Your tight, wet walls surround me snugly and the sweetest gasp leaves your mouth. I drag them back and forth, pressing down my fingertips and making a mental map of each your responses. I search for the special places inside you, having enough experience to know what I'm doing.

You grip the edge of the table, your mouth hanging open in silent gasps. Your legs tremble slightly, your inner muscles fluttering around me and trying to achieve more stimulation.

"How tight you are," I tease, allowing my voice to become husky and sensual. "How wet and ready for me. What a stroke of luck such a whore of an assassin would find her way into my bedchambers." 

"Please," you sob desperately. "Just fuck me." 

My lips curl into a triumphant grin, but I force my voice into gentleness.

"Alright, little kitten." I will destroy you.

I crook my fingers and drag them over your sweet spot, fast and without mercy.

You lose yourself to me, moaning without restraint and rocking your hips to fuck yourself back on my fingers. You seem to struggle with yourself, but then you say the words that immediately make my cock twitch.

"Please, I need you inside me."

I feel lust and triumph surge up inside me, reaching my head like a heady drink.

"Oh? You want my cock? Is that what you want, you dirty whore?" 

I continue curling my fingers inside you, bringing your desperation up each time.

"Yes! Please, I want it now!" you beg, your voice so sweet.

"Alright then," I give in and withdraw. "But I must warn you. I will not be gentle. Though, that is exactly what you want, isn't it? To be punished by me?" 

I wait for you to answer as I pull open my breeches, but you only make a mewling sound.

"Answer me, slut," I demand harshly, drawing out my cock and pressing it to your entrance. 

"Yes, yes I want that," you rapidly breathe out.

I steady myself on your hips and press myself inside you. My eyes fall shut as your hot walls surround me, squeezing me so tightly it takes some effort to push further. You whimper, but I force myself all the way inside you until your muscles finally relax around me and I am fully seated in your sweet little cunt.

I take a few deep breaths and open my eyes again, watching you tremble and whimper beneath me. Your muscles flutter around me, desperate to be fucked open.

"Mmm, you're so tight, little slut," I remark, letting my hand slide beneath you to tease over your clit.

You spasm and clench around me, wailing desperately for more.

"How well you take me," I praise, drawing partially out of you slowly, savoring the drag against my cock before thrusting back inside. "You're such a good girl, taking my cock despite the pain." 

You look delirious, your body limp and only supported only by me and the table. I decide to take over from here, starting off with a slow rhythm to get you used to me. Very quickly, however, my own need takes over and I pick up the pace, snapping my hips and making you yelp out. You tremble and clench around me each time I rub over your clit, and it's so good I do it every time I thrust into you. My pace becomes brutal, harsh, taking from your body what I please.

You quiver beneath me, moaning helplessly and digging your nails into my desk.

If there is one thing I've gotten good at over the decades, it's rough fucking. I grunt in pleasure, snapping into you and taking claim of your body.

"Fuck, you little slut, do you like this?" I snarl. "Do you like getting fucked by your king?" 

You gasp, not replying, so I grab a fistful of your hair and pull on it harshly. You arch up, moaning loudly before nodding frantically. "Yes... Yes!"

I laugh triumphantly at your defeat. "Are you going to cum, whore? Are you going to cum on my cock? Do you want that?"

Again, you nod frantically, gasping out your response. "Yes, Lo- Yes, my king!"

Power is rushing through my veins like a drug, my climax quickly approaching.

"Then cum," I growl, furiously swirling my fingers over your clit. "Cum, and let the shame of it destroy you." 

I thrust harshly into you and you fall apart with a scream, spasming against the table and clenching around me. My vision blurs, my hips bucking on their own. I feel my pleasure crest, my balls drawing up until the tension snaps and I spurt my seed inside you.

Fingers gripping your hips, I let the bliss consume me as I ride it out with slowing thrusts. Gasping, I pull out, letting my senses return to me. My gaze lands on your glistening cunt, watching my seed begin to drip out of it. It sends a thrill through me, a heady rush of power. You've been claimed, marked as mine. I'm not worried about a pregnancy, for I will feed you the preventative potion one way or another.

I allow my breaths to steady, pulling myself back into my pants and lacing them up as before. You're still draped over the table, watching me, but I decide I am done with you. You're owned now. There is nothing you can do.

I return the sofa, pointedly disregarding you as I savor the rest of my wine. Yet again, there is no one who can stand in my way. I have defeated you, made you submit, and now I will let you wallow in your shame.

I hear you moving around cautiously, getting back into your undergarments and trying to recover. I wonder what you're thinking about this moment. Are you loathing yourself for submitting, or do you simply accept your fate? Perhaps you are wondering what is to become of you now. Hoping I have a purpose for you.

I hear your soft footsteps on the carpet, and then you enter my field of vision, attempting to sneak out of the chambers.

"Where are you going?" I ask sternly, putting authority in my voice. I am almost certain you won't disobey me if it comes to it, so there is no need for me to get up at all.

You go still, hand frozen mid-reach. It is wonderfully apparent how fearful you are.

"May... May I leave?" you ask without looking at me, your voice small and apprehensive.

"No." I decide to smother all hope you may have immediately. "Come here."

When you don't move, I narrow my eyes at your back. I know what you're thinking about, pet, and it won't work.

"I'm sure you're smarter than to think you could run," I warn you, an act of mercy more than anything. I will kill you if you attempt to flee.

You turn to me very slowly, your eyes wide with regret and sorrow. It seems to take you an incredible effort to return to me and take your seat beside me, but you do it nonetheless.

The way you look at me stirs a mixture of sympathy and cold dominance in me. I reach out and smooth down your disheveled hair, and you have no choice but to let me.

"Did you enjoy getting your soul broken?" I ask in a low voice.

"Am I to bear your child?" you ask back with bitterness in your gaze. You seem to think I would let you have this sort of power over me, and I laugh coldly in response.

"A whore like you?" 

Your brows furrow, hatred in your gaze that only amuses me further.

"Well, you just came inside me and that's usually how that works," you spit.

I laugh once more, showing you how little such a prospect fazes me. "Are you concerned? Or does it excite you?" 

"Neither!" you snap, finally drawing away from my caress. "It's never going to happen. And I'm not a whore. A whore sleeps with men for money. Last I checked, you weren't going to pay me." 

I can sense your agitation, your self-loathing, and feel that I must rein it in.

"Cool your temper, kitten," I advise calmly. "You aren't getting paid with coin, no, but you are getting paid with your life and your silence. You cannot afford not to be my whore." 

You don't look cowed.

"Good to know I have no choice in this," you snap like a stubborn child. "Then it was never my will to do this. You're just a monster." 

I feel my temper rise at your words, which is perhaps a weakness on my part. My ego simply cannot stand hearing you pretend I took you by force. You submitted to me on your own like the weak thing that you are, and it is important you remember that.

"I don't enjoy lies from your mouth, little slut," I snarl in warning. "You cannot expect to beg for me and still pretend to stand above me." 

You meet my gaze fearlessly, haughtily. "I only begged because you forced me to. None of this was my will." 

The need to put you back in your place is a roaring fire inside me. Swiftly, I put down my goblet and rise to my feet, looming over you for a moment before my hand wraps around your throat and shoves you back against the sofa.

You wheeze at the pressure, beginning to struggle against my grip. Your weak little hands claw against mine, and all I feel is coldness and anger as I throttle the air from you.

"If it's pain you want, insolent worm, if you wish for torture-" I narrow my eyes at you, taking a sharp breath. "-I will gladly supply it to you. I can make every waking minute of your life pure agony, until you not only beg for me to make use of your worthless body, but for me to snuff out your equally worthless life in a stroke of mercy." 

The power of holding your life in my hands mixes with my anger in an overpowering combination. I see myself torturing you, inflicting pain and cruelty until you finally beg me to kill you. These feelings fuel each other, drawing on my sudden need for violence, for destruction.

You claw helplessly at my hand, your eyes drooping as the blood and air fail to reach your brain. It is a beautiful sight and it makes my gut spark with arousal once more. I let you drag in one more wheezing, desperate breath, and then I release you.

The fight seems to have drained from you completely, your body slumping forward as you clutch at your throat and pull quick bursts of air into your lungs. It seems you require a show of physical dominance as much as a psychological one before you truly submit.

"I'm sorry, my king," you whisper between gasps, gazing at the floor in defeat. This sign of submission eases some of my anger, and I let my next words sound kind.

"Look, little kitten," I say softly. "If you simply learned to yield under my hand like everyone else, we would have no problems. Now it is late. You are spent. I believe sleep is what you truly need." 

You nod, so pliant and subservient. I could take you again and you would not resist.

"I will allow you to sleep on the sofa," I mercifully grant. "Under three conditions." 

Your shining wet eyes meet mine, and I know you will listen.

"One: You henceforth serve my every whim with a smile. Two: You do not disturb me during my sleep. Three: You allow me to chain you up so that you will not suffer from any bad ideas during the night."

I can see the despair in your gaze, but your submission is final. You have given yourself to me, and there is nothing you can do.

You stand, slowly, and then you smile a painful little smile. I almost want to smile back, but force my expression to remain cold and emotionless.

"I accept." A pause. "...my king." And then you curtsy, and it is a beautiful sight.

I will not ruin this by toying with you further. You must steep in your submission, feel it weighing down on you like a blanket.

"Go to the washroom to ready yourself," I instruct, void of emotion. "You have ten minutes before I tie you up." 

"Yes, your majesty," you whisper beautifully and bow your head. Then you quickly hurry toward my bath chambers and shut the door between us like a frightened little rabbit.

I extend my seidr toward you, making sure you are doing what you are supposed to. At the same time, I use it to place a pillow and a blanket on the sofa, a comfort I am willing to grant you. When you still haven't returned, I allow myself to get comfortable as well, stowing away the outer layers of my armor while keeping the rest.

You return still wearing your dress, but I see you've removed your jewelry. You don't meet my gaze as you silently trudge over and lay down under the blanket.

I grant you the mercy of not speaking, equally silent as I retrieve a pair of manacles and carefully secure one end to your wrist, the other to the leg of the sofa. You make for a bizarre contrast of prisoner and bed companion, but there is no use dwelling on it.

I turn and let my seidr sweep through the room, extinguishing the candles and drawing the curtains until only darkness surrounds us. Only then do I allow my armor to fully disappear, replaced with light sleep clothes.

Going to bed feels like any other day, no more or less turmoil in my heart. I always sleep as though there are enemies in my room, and it is no different with you chained to my furniture.


	3. Loki POV: Lady Anise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's POV of chapter 31, requested by Pandi_Moo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a little bonus scene of something Loki did while the Reader was not present. Again, no need to re-read anything :P

Breaking my little kitten's heart is more difficult than I anticipated. It will require more finesse and effort, and yet I _enjoy_ tormenting you.

It is a game to me, to see how far I can push you before you stop loving me. You are pathetic, weak, and utterly unable to resist me, and that makes it all too enticing. It was an easy decision to contact Lady Anise and invite her to the palace.

She has always been fond of my attentions. Being the younger, slighter, more feminine prince works in my favor sometimes. I know you don't see me as such, but she certainly does.

"So, who do you want me to make jealous, my king?" she asks now with a laugh, reaching across the table for a roll.

"A servant," I inform her, a smile forced onto my lips. My elbows are braced on the table, my plate empty. The breakfast is merely a formality, an echo of days past. I've deigned to wear the lighter leathers of my younger days, my hair neatly combed from my face without being contained by products.

"Did you fall in love with that servant?" she asks me, a knowing smile on her lips as she bites into the roll. She doesn't mind that I'm not eating, used to my peculiar ways by now.

"I enslaved her," I reply bluntly, flashing her a cold smile. "She wears a collar around her neck that will only fall off if she loses her love for me. I assume that shall be easily done, should she see us together. Can I count on your assistance once more?"

Anise raises an eyebrow at me. "I'm to sleep with you to break a spell? You sorcerers are something else. I'll consider it. For her sake, and for yours. Tell me, what's in it for me?"

She throws me a teasing smile, for both of us already know what she desires. I reach across the table and touch the back of her hand, stroking over her dark skin with my ashen fingers.

"I offer you the pleasures of my kingdom," I suggest, my voice low. "Feasts and merriment."

"What about the king?" she asks back, turning her hand to take hold of mine. "I'd quite like the pleasures he has to offer as well. In private... Just the two of us. And then in front of your servant. And maybe a few more times with just the two of us."

I knew the price would be steep, but I cannot stop the disagreeable feeling in my chest after hearing just how many nights I will have to spend with her. I'd much rather focus my attentions on you and you alone, but the setback will be worth the payoff in the end.

"If you do exactly as I instruct, you will have me many nights," I purr with a suggestive smile, dragging my fingers over her palm. "And should it not work the first time, I will court you publicly until it does."

"Ooh," she coos, looking rather delighted at my offer. "That does sound fun, my dear king."

She tugs at my hand then, and I follow the suggestion and rise from my seat to walk closer. She looks up at me for a moment, still smiling.

"I'll do it," she declares then. "As many times as you need, as long as I get my payoff. What's first?"

I steel myself, plans already fully formed inside my mind.

"I will need you to play my whore, my concubine," I state with as little emotion as possible. "You must submit to me and show me unhindered affection."

Anise gives me a knowing look from below her lashes. "Ah, was that what she was to you? You want her to feel replaced? Well, you know how I feel about submitting..."

I know all too well, but I am certain I can entice her to do this for me.

"I was hoping you would do me this favor, my dear," I purr, lowering myself onto one knee and pressing my lips to her hand.

"For you, Loki, anything," she responds, her hand leaving mine and instead weaving into my hair. "You're incredibly good in bed. Especially with your tongue."

Her nails lovingly scratch over my scalp, her other hand tracing the angles of my face. I meet her gaze, knowing exactly how I look like in her mind.

Memories surface of the first time I seduced her to do my bidding. She'd taken me to her chambers, put me on my back and made love to me, all the while telling me how beautiful she found me. I'd shown her nothing but affection that night, and in the morning, she had given me what I wanted. Then we did it again.

It had always disturbed me how easily she was convinced, and briefly, I'd questioned whether my body was worth more than what I was selling it for. But I hadn't valued my body back then, or my dignity, and so I had let her take them as she pleased.

I've changed since then. Gotten older. Lost so much. My dignity is the least of my worries, and I lean in, grabbing her leg and bringing it over my shoulder. I bite at her thigh, and her fingers curl in my hair. Not so gentle anymore.

***

My fingers are clenched tightly around the armrest of my sofa, Lady Anise's mouth on my cock, and despite all the pleasure, there is nothing but dread and a vague feeling of sickness in me. All I can do is wait for you to arrive and hope to make all this worth it.

Have you ever slept with someone you have felt nothing for? I can't imagine you have, innocent thing that you are. Let me tell you, pet, no matter how detached you think you are, you will wake up wondering if you have just lost more than you believed you had in the first place. Even now, with her tongue dutifully slicking up my cock, I can only think of when my debt will finally be paid.

As I wait for you to respond to my summons, I focus on the pit in my chest and fill it with cruelty. By the time you finally knock on my door, I have managed to shut off my feelings and submerge myself in darkness.

"Enter," I call out, shoving Anise down on me just as you open the door.

I stare at you, nothing but loathing in my gaze as I watch your reaction. You look shocked, almost like you want to turn and run. But you cannot, because you wear my collar and must obey.

Your eyes widen, then narrow, and I can see the anger in them. It satisfies me immensely.

Quickly, you straighten up and compose yourself, giving me the falsest smile I have ever seen.

"Good evening, master," you greet me, each word of yours insincere. "How may I serve you and your pleasant company? You look beautiful, by the way, my lady."

To my annoyance, Anise briefly lifts her head off my swollen cock to smile at you, and you actually smile back. I have the sudden urge to hurt both of you.

I shoot you a sharp glare, attempting to put an end to your idiotic act.

"Serve me and my pet some wine, slave," I command you as brusquely as I can, a sneer on my face.

You are unaffected by anything but the command itself.

"Right away, master," you sing and move cheerfully toward my cabinet of drinks.

I glare after you, almost entirely ignoring the woman between my legs, who is admittedly masterfully playing the devoted concubine.

I watch you fill two goblets with wine, relaxing my position a little and sliding my fingers through Anise's rough hair. You'll break soon enough.

Your gaze returns to us as you bring the wine over, trying to look unaffected, but your eyes soon stray to Lady Anise.

"My lady, your wine," you say and hold the goblet out to her, entirely ignoring me.

Immediate anger fills me and I sit up to correct your behavior, but Anise already drags herself off me to look at you.

"Oh, thank you," she says, taking it from you as if she has the right to. Only then does she glance up at me for permission.

I barely manage to keep from snapping at her, glaring at you instead.

"Master," you finally address me and even bow your head. My anger dissipates as you hold out the other goblet, and I brush your fingers with mine as I take it.

Anise moves up to sit beside me, deviating entirely from the plan. I decide to ignore her and focus on my drink, feeling her lean over and kiss at my jaw. Perhaps she has better ideas on how to make you jealous than I.

"Anything else I can do for you, my lady?" you ask, once more being entirely insolent.

My eyes narrow and Anise tenses briefly, but when I do nothing, she dares respond.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," she quickly declines. "Thank you, though."

I expect that to be the end of your impertinence, but I am entirely mistaken.

"Oh, but my lady, you must be tired kneeling on the floor for so long," you coo, clearly up to something. "Let me massage your legs."

"I-" Anise glances at me, unsure now where I want this to go.

I continue regarding you over the brim of my goblet, letting silence fill the room as I contemplate. I still hold the power here. There is nothing you can do to get to me.

"Go on," I finally say, lacking the energy to do anything rash.

You kneel down and take one of Anise's legs into your lap. As promised, you begin massaging it, for reasons yet unknown to me.

Anise sighs in relaxation and leans herself against me, but her focus is on you.

"Oh, she's good," she sighs. "You should let her give you a massage, my king."

She is trying to tempt me to make use of you and remove herself from our dynamic, which is a commendable effort.

To my surprise, you agree with her, smiling up at me.

"I would love to," you lie. "And you still have that to take care of."

You look between my legs where my pants still hang open, and the grip I have on my goblet tightens. Compared to having Lady Anise's mouth on me, I want nothing more than to shove you down on me. But I can't, after all the efforts I have made. My pride won't allow it.

I am forced to watch you sensually massage up the leg of my false lover, my emotions warring between arousal and irritation. Anise is drinking her wine, caressing my arm, but her eyes are on you. I know I don't have to concern myself with her having an attention to you, but your act of cheeriness certainly annoys me.

"Say, my lady, are your shoulders sore as well?" you ask into the silence, pretending to be unbothered by everything around you. "You should lie down on the bed and let me give you a back massage."

"Oh yes!" Anise exclaims, used to servants giving her massages. It takes her a second to remember the part she is supposed to play for me, quickly becoming servile again.

"May I?" she implores, trying to bat her lashes at me. "I mean... would you rather have her? We could both massage you, if you'd like?"

My attention remains on you, kneeling there and waiting for my response. I'd rather not be the center of your attention right now like she suggests. Slowly, I drain my goblet, then put it aside. Only then do I give Anise my attention, allowing my expression to soften into affection.

"No, it's alright, pet. Let her massage you." I give her a smile and briefly lift her chin with my hand, then let her go. Your little request is giving me perfect opportunity to show you how little I still care about you.

"Thank you!" she joyously expresses her gratitude, jumping up and heading for my bed. I tug my pants back up and watch her drop her dress to the floor before sprawling out on her belly.

You follow after her, getting on the bed and making good on your promise to massage her. I find myself relaxing in my seat, not minding this reprieve in the slightest.

"Your servant is great," Anise says to me, humming in pleasure at your touch. In my mind, the old plan has already been replaced with a new one.

"Indeed, she is," I confirm conversationally, as if I truly had no cares. "Maybe I'll gift her to you. Would you like that?"

I know she will decline, and she does.

"Oh, I don't need a servant." She raises her head to look at you. "I'd love to get more massages from you though. What's your name?"

You tell her honestly, asking for hers in return.

"I'm Lady Anise," she replies, not even attempting to come up with a lie.

"How long have you known my master, the king, Lady Anise?" you continue the conversation, and I feel an amount of satisfaction hearing you use my chosen title for me.

Now Lady Anise hesitates a moment, knowing the truth will not do well here.

"Oh, I... I've known his majesty since before he was king," she begins with her story. "He pays me for companionship, usually enough to feed me for many moons. I haven't been invited to the palace since he became king, but I was called upon a few days ago."

She's telling you enough truth so you believe her, and changing the details so she still fits her role.

"Do you like this occupation?" you ask, and I lean forward a little to hear her answer better.

This time, the story comes easier to her, delivered with a shrug.

"Yes. It is a life of luxury. Spending time with King Loki is always a night of slow sensuality. Drinking wine, lying naked in each other's arms, experiencing slow pleasures. I quite enjoy that, but the gold sure helps."

At first, I am not sure if I am fond of all the truth she is telling you, but as soon as I see you stiffen up, a smile curls over my lips. I watch you process those words, your fingers digging harder and harder into Anise's back.

"Ow! Not so hard," she yelps, and you sheepishly draw back.

I cannot hide my amusement any longer, and a chuckle escapes me. This is going marvelously.

"Anise, darling, I think you've had enough massages," I coax my concubine back to me. I know what I want to do next.

Anise looks reluctant, but she obeys me without question. Slowly, she sits and stretches, unafraid to show either of us her barely clothed body.

You stare after her as she comes over to me, picking up her goblet and taking a drink before sprawling out beside me. She knows what I want, and the kiss comes naturally as soon as I lean in.

I let my lips remain soft, my eyelids lowering as I focus on sensations. She is always gentle with me, and now I am gentle with her.

It doesn't take long for her to scoot closer, sliding her hand into my pants and stroking my yearning cock back to full hardness. My hips buck up against her and I pluck the goblet from her hand, blindly putting it behind me so I can pull her onto my lap. Her arms are around my neck, her lips still kissing mine and at her urgent grinding, I tear her lace off and sheathe myself inside her.

My heart feels like ice, but her body feels hot. She kisses and rides me with passion and affection, and I can't help the pleasure I derive from it. I take from her body what is mine, letting noises of enjoyment come freely from my throat without care.

I barely notice you trying to flee, your presence so unimportant when I know you are bound to my will. Still I want to hurt you, and so I speed up my pace and let myself go even further. She mirrors me, bouncing up and down and moaning unashamedly.

"Mm, Anise, that's so good," I praise breathlessly, sliding my lips over her neck as my hands grip her soft bottom. "Yes, just like that. My darling pet- Oh, yes!"

She takes my face in her hands and kisses me passionately, her eyes full of pleasure. I hear your footsteps run into the bath chamber, and I know you must be distraught. I do not care. I buck up into her and chase my release, finding it with my teeth against her shoulder. She finds her own at the same time, aided by her own hand.

We come down from the high together, breathing heavily and feeling satisfied. Satisfied, and empty inside.

"Do you think it worked?" Anise whispers, a mischievous look on her face as she nuzzles against me.

I merely shrug, uncaring if it did. Slowly, she gets off me, heading to the bathroom to clean up. I lean back against the sofa, needing a moment to compose myself.

"Eh- L-lady Anise, do you require assistance?" I hear you ask from the other room, your voice betraying all your painful emotions. Good. You deserve to suffer.

"Oh, no. That's fine," she declines, not stepping between us. "I do this myself all the time."

I manage to catch my breath and right my appearance again, standing to close my pants up.

"Slave, come here for a moment," I call out once I am put together, remembering the other business we will have to attend.

You hurry out of the bathroom and stand before me, no longer faking joy about this. Good.

I regard you for a moment, taking in the sight of your miserable expression. And yet... All this while you seemed so distracted. So focused on things that weren't me. You used to hang onto my every word, my every motion. Not anymore.

"Do you like her?" I inquire, wondering if that is it. If you've discovered a new side of your sexuality.

"Like her?" you repeat, staring dumbly at me.

It bothers me that you are forcing me to repeat myself, but I need to know.

"Does she... _please_ you?" I ask again, making a gesture with my hand.

"Are you asking if I'm into her?" You gape at me, not believing me serious.

It takes some amount of effort to maintain a neutral expression.

"Yes," I confirm.

Your posture gets defensive and you shrug. "Why do you care? Do you want a threesome? I hear men are into that."

Now my blank expression does slip, my brows raising at the idea.

"That is not what I was insinuating," I insist. "I am merely wondering... You seem happier. Is it because someone caught your interest? Is it Lady Anise, or is it someone else?"

I realize to late my voice is not as neutral as it was before, but now I have already begun talking, and I cannot stop.

"A servant?" I continue. "Did you find one of the male servants attractive? Your friend, perhaps? No, someone else? A man, right? I can tell it's a man, because you no longer look at me the way you did just yesterday."

A vile feeling begins to fill me, anger and possessiveness. How dare you even do this?

"Good for you. I am glad you are getting over your infatuation with me," I lie blatantly, the tension rising in my words. "Do you suppose the collar will come off, now that you have someone else? How soon, do you think? Which one is it? Which of the servants has caught your attention? I'm merely curious. I won't do anything, don't worry. I have Lady Anise now."

I vow to myself not to act on this feeling inside me, but my face is already twitching in anger at the thought of having you distracted by someone else.

You stare at me in wonder, your mouth slowly opening.

"Oh my stars. You _are_ jealous," you gasp, astounded.

My teeth clench and my rage boils over immediately. How dare you? How _dare_ you do this to me?

Blindly, I reach for your shoulders, holding you in my grip and exerting physical dominance over you.

"You will not fraternize with the male servants," I snarl. "That is an order. Do not talk to them. Do not even _look_ at them. Do you understand?"

Your eyes are wide, surprised by the extent of my reaction. "I- Yes, but- No, I don't understand. You don't want me anymore, so why do you care? Can I at least talk to my friend?"

I search your face for any indication that you are indeed thinking of a servant. When I find nothing, my grip relaxes marginally.

"Yes, you may talk to your friend," I give in. "But that is it. Tell me who has caught your attention. _Tell_ me."

You look at me as though you doubt my sanity.

"I don't know!" you exclaim. "I haven't talked to any of the male servants!"

I continue searching your face for any sign of untruth, but there is nothing. The collar, too, does not punish you for lying.

"Then what is going on?" I ask a little more calmly, taking your chin between my fingers to put your attention on me. "Just yesterday, you looked at me as though I was the only thing you wanted in the world. And now, I see only pain in your eyes. What happened?"

There is confusion and hurt in your eyes.

"You hurt me," you say obviously. "It's what you wanted."

"So you _are_ losing your love for me?" I ask. I should feel happy. I don't.

"The collar is still on, isn't it?" you surprise me. Perhaps you aren't the one causing this.

"There is a new distance between us," I point out nonetheless. "I can feel it."

"Of course there is," you respond, as if it were obvious. "It's what you want, isn't it?"

I ignore your question a second time. I need to know why. I soften my voice a little, taking your hands in mine as I lean in.

"Even standing so close, I can feel the distance. It doesn't matter how much I touch you. It's there now. Who helped you? Who is helping you shut me out of your heart?"

"You are," you whisper, and I know it's the truth, but... But why don't I want to accept it?

A heavy feeling in my heart, I simply nod and let it drop. "Alright. Then let us talk about the ceremony. Sit down."

I return to my place on the sofa, and you sit down as far from me as I can. I don't like it. I _own_ you. I should be able to do whatever I want.

"You know," I begin, my voice steady and my intent nothing but cruelty, "if I wanted to, I could make you my obedient little slave, even without the collar. I would torture you for days, locked away in a dark dungeon, drugged up on aphrodisiacs, unable to cum no matter how much you want to, tortured without relief."

I watch the distress appear on your face, and I take great pleasure in it. You are mine, pet. Just mine.

The words continue flowing from my mouth, and I cannot stop my desire to hurt you.

"...And then, when your mind has succumbed to insanity, you would be so eager to please me. To do anything at all I asked you to. You would forget about your friends, and I would be the only one who matters to you. You would crawl on the floor behind me and feel proud for even the slightest sliver of attention I grant you. You would be content just snuggling up to my legs, resting your head on my feet, like a dog. You would worship me like the humans do, for I was the one who released you from the mind breaking torture. I could have you, and do whatever I wish to you. Oh, you would adore me. You simply wouldn't be able to help it."

I regard you as you shift nervously.

"Why..." You swallow. "Why are you telling me this?"

I have no particular motive behind my words other than simply pointing out my power over you.

"Because I think I'd really like that," I answer, suddenly feeling the urge to be even crueler. "Don't you think I would? I think I'd enjoy it. Making you mindless. Oh, love is far behind us. You'd be a pet. A toy. I'd play with you, for a while. Then I'd discard you."

My heart feels colder, more constricted with every word I speak, and yet I do not stop.

"I could have a lot of fun killing you. You'd look so pretty, struggling beneath me, fighting to stay conscious. So afraid, not knowing why I'm doing this. Not remembering that I hate you."

It feels good to be cruel. To hurt you with my words and stab you in the heart, because at the same time, I am stabbing into my own.

"I don't doubt that you could do all that," you say, looking afraid but still so frustratingly calm. "But I would never let you do that. If you force me to, there is little I can do, but don't think I'll play along with your twisted games. I'm not infatuated with you anymore."

Surprisingly, your words neither stoke my loathing, nor encourage me to continue. You simply manage to defuse my desire to hurt, which I suppose is all the same.

"Let's truly talk about the ceremony, then," I change topics. "You know not how to dance? That's alright; we shall only do one, and it will not be all too complicated. As for your dress—I have your measurements, of course, and I have no problem choosing everything for you, but if you want to choose for yourself, I will allow you to."

You still look like you'd rather be anywhere else, but there is still not a single bit of rebellion in you.

"Ah- I... You can choose my dress," you stammer, remaining perfectly pleasant.

"Alright," I accept. "Now for the vows. I know this is no wedding, but it will do well if we each say a few words about our love for each other. Especially you, seeing as a consort has special responsibilities to uphold."

Just as I draw out the script I have prepared, Anise returns to the room, leaning over me to kiss me. I turn my head toward her and allow our lips to connect for a moment.

"I'll be going then," she says her farewells. "See you soon, my king."

I force my features to soften, my lips to form a smile at her. "See you, pet."

_Yes, see you tonight, when I am to pay you back with my body._

She gives me a smile, then waves goodbye to you. "Bye. I hope to get another massage from you, soon."

I barely pay attention as she leaves, only just noticing the change in your posture.

"So that's your new pet," you remark drily. "Good choice."

I am already aware you don't like her presence, since that was my purpose of having her here, so I choose not to comment on it.

"I agree," I simply say. "Now, here are your vows. I've written them for you, so all you must do is memorize them."

I coolly hand you the parchment, watching you unfold it and read what I have written there. Your brows raise, then furrow as you try to come to terms with the words I have presented you with. Words more flowery and saccharine than anything I have written before, but I want to hear you say them.

"You wrote all this?" you ask, clearly not pleased. "Are your vows equally... sappy?"

"No," I answers curtly, not wishing to dwell on this. "A king cannot seem too emotional, whereas you need to be convincing."

You say nothing, merely folding the parchment and tucking it away.

"The ceremony will involve a stately dinner and the ball," I continue seamlessly. "Only the gentry is invited, but rumors spread regardless. We'll make the announcement right before the banquet, and then the celebrations will begin. There is no need to exchange anything, such as in a wedding ceremony, but it is customary for me to shower you in riches while you are pregnant with my child. We will kiss after the announcement has been made, and when the dancing begins, we will have the first one. Those are your only obligations. Do you think you can do all this convincingly, or do I have to describe the way I will torture your friends if you do not comply?"

I make it clear with my tone of voice how little faith I have in you. This is far from pleasurable for me.

You immediately jump to convince me of your capabilities. "No, no. I got it. I'll do everything you ask. I can't guarantee I won't step on your feet when we dance, though."

I suppose it's good if that is all you are worried about.

"That is why we will practice," I assure you, rising and holding my hand out to you.

"What? Now?" you question, clearly not eager.

"Why do you think I sent Anise home so soon?" I ask drily, because it's true. I could have put on a show for you all day. "Now come. We have not much time."

You reach for my hand and let me help you up. Without letting go, I simply lead you out of my chambers and to the room I have set aside for this, and you follow obediently.

I stride inside, fixing my gaze on the royal violinist while you look around at the mirrored wall and the chairs that have been moved aside. The musician stands and bows to me, prepared as he should be.

"Show her a taste of the song," I order. It is a song with an easy rhythm and an emotional melody worthy of court.

He lifts his violin and strikes the first few notes, smoothly entering the melody.

"As you can tell," I begin to explain as you listen, "this is a waltz. It is not a traditional Asgardian song, but I have chosen it for us, for it is simple to dance to, and fairly slow. It is in triple time. See if you can detect the beat."

I expect you to nod, or show an amount of recognition, but you immediately look lost. I hold up my hand and the musician stops, your attention returning to me.

"Just follow my lead," I decide. "Perhaps you will get the rhythm then."

I lead you to the center of the room and take your other hand, bringing it to my shoulder. Then I place mine at your waist, extending our joined ones, and pull you close. The power such a leading position affords me is never unpleasant.

"Now, we will simply step in a square, such as this." I show you the steps, which results in me dragging you bodily while you stumble to keep up, frowning all the while.

"There. Those are the first, basic steps," I continue as though nothing happened. "Now, with the music."

The violinist takes my cue and resumes the melody. I pull you through the steps again, counting aloud for you until you begin to move in time with me and the music. So close to you, moving in perfect harmony, some tension eases off me and I give you an encouraging smile. Slowly, shyly, you allow yourself to enjoy it and smile back at me.

"Good. Now the next part," I announce, feeling that you are ready. I turn us both into a new direction and continue with the previous steps. You stumble, but follow along as best you can. After a few more repetitions, you seem to know at which count the turn happens, keeping a close watch on your feet so you don't trip.

"Don't stare at the floor," I instruct you when I feel that you are ready. "Look into my eyes."

You lift your head, immediately shrinking away from my gaze.

"Don't let your arm droop, either," I continue my lecture, straightening yours. "I know it starts to get exhausting, but you don't want to seem clumsy and halfhearted."

"Do I really have to stare into your eyes the entire time?" you complain, but you are managing to keep up with me.

"Yes, of course," I answer, making it a point to gaze directly into your eyes. "Do not disengage from your partner. If I were staring down at the floor, it would give me a nice view down your neckline."

You fluster just slightly, but you bravely hold my gaze. You seem a little tired now, however.

"Okay, I think I got the hang of it," you tell me. "Are there any more steps?"

I know you want to stop, but I can't help myself.

"Why, yes," I answer and smile at you, making no move to cease our movements. "We can improvise as much as we want. Would you like me to twirl you under my arm? Dip you down and pull you back up? Lift you in the air?"

"Nope, I'm good," you predictably decline. "Can we... take a break? We've been dancing long enough."

This time, I come to a stop and nod my permission. You immediately pull away from me and head to the chairs.

"Take a break, too," I tell the violinist, seeing no point in him continuing.

He stops and inclines his head toward me. "May I get a drink of water? I'll be right back."

"Go ahead," I permit, turning my focus on you.

You are sitting on one of the chairs, staring blankly at my middle. I wonder if you have seen the arousing effect this dance has had on me, and can only assume my leather pants leave little to the imagination.

"When you sleep with her, do you imagine it's me?" you abruptly ask, your gaze focusing.

I feel myself stiffen, my brows raising.

"Pardon?" I ask, wondering if you _truly_ mean to ask this.

You avoid my gaze, but continue speaking.

"I just- I was wondering why you go slow with her when you were so rough with me," you mumble quietly. "Do you picture it's me making love to you, or do you simply respect her boundaries?"

So you have decided to reveal your jealousy after all. I can't say I'm surprised, but I won't be kind to you, either.

"Oh, dear," I mock. "And you've been hiding your jealousy so well until now. Yes, I respect her, which cannot be said about you. You are simply... vermin that needed to be taken care of."

"Thanks," you huff, unaffected by me. "And you just fucked a woman, but you still get hard dancing with me, the vermin."

You would be more convincing, were you not still staring at my cock through my pants.

"We both know how much you want this," I say, strolling closer to you. "If you beg nicely, I may let you kiss it."

You scoff, but your gaze doesn't move away from it. "And we both know how much you want me, but you're too prideful to take me."

That sounds awfully like an invitation, and I can't stop the smirk from appearing on my face.

"Are you trying to goad me into fucking you, little one?" I ask mockingly. "Do you want my big cock inside you? Do you miss it? Hm? Just admit it, dear. Just say 'please, master, I'm a hungry slut for your cock, and I have no sense of dignity.' Say it, and you shall have it."

I almost laugh at your heated expression, your mask of anger.

"Your insults don't work on me," you scoff, though your eyes show your need.

"Oh, but I can see your desperation," I purr. Slowly, I slide my hand to the back of your head, resting it there.

"You're still a panting animal," I continue to taunt. "So desperate for a man's cock. Does it have to be mine, I wonder? Should I tie you down and let my guards take their turns with you? I think that would be enough to sate you, no?"

As I speak, my hand applies pressure on your head all on its own, drawing you closer to my throbbing cock. Your eyes widen and you attempt to free yourself, but you fail against my strength.

"Wh- What are you doing?" you stammer in a panic.

"Seeing how flustered you get," I answer as if I had no ulterior motive. "Now, admit you are a desperate bitch who needs a cock in her mouth to feel useful, and you shall have it."

I know you lust after me even now, but more than that, I need to feel you or I will go insane. Nothing Lady Anise can do will sate me like you can.

You struggle as I force you closer, pushing back against my thighs as you try to free yourself.

"No, I won't let you pretend you're not just as desperate, if not more," you ramble. "Besides, this really isn't the place to- mph!"

You sag against me, your face pressed against my cock through the leather, and your words die off in a sigh. Shocks of pleasure run through me and I begin grinding myself against your lips as you simply sit there and breathe me in. Your eyes are clouded over with lust, as are mine, and I can see you battle with yourself.

I pant softly as I grind against your face, witnessing your thighs clench and your tongue poke between your lips. Then you blink and tears spill from your desperate eyes. Immediately, I feel the need to hurt and soothe you.

"Oh, oh darling," I coo, gently stroking over your head. "Are you crying over my cock? It's alright, dear. It's right there. You can kiss it. Go on."

You shudder against me, pulling away slightly. I allow it so you can catch your breath, even if it leaves me with painfully unfulfilled arousal.

"Can't we just... go back to how things were?" you suddenly whisper, taking me by surprise. The power I currently have over you is intoxicating.

"You mean with you as my bed slave, paying for your crimes by giving me your body?" I ask kindly, still petting your head. "We tried that, little one, and it did not work. Now, you're a real slave, and such privileges don't belong to you."

I have you in the palm of my hand now. You desire me so _badly_. You'll let me do whatever I want. And I will. I will use to sate my lust, and then I will hurt you, hurt you well until you cry and regret and blame only yourself. Lust courses through me at the mere thought.

"I'm back, sire, we can resume our practice," the violinist suddenly says from behind me, tearing me from my thoughts. I can see how miserable you are, and so I force myself to remain cool.

"Ah, good," is all I say, pretending to be entirely unbothered by the interruption. "Come, pet."

I step back, offering you my hand. You sniffle and wipe at your eyes, but then you take it.

I lead you to the center of the room once more, pulling you close with my hand at your waist. You put yours on my shoulder, your gaze flickering up to my lips, my eyes, my lips again. A new feeling begins to grow in my chest, one I can't quite identify.

"I forgot to tell you, pet, when I bring you to the dance floor, it is customary for me to bow to you, then you will curtsy, and only then will you accept my hand," I explain, gazing into your face.

You nod and gaze back at me, and neither of us move. The feeling spreads in my chest. There is pain, desperation in your eyes. They flicker back down to my lips. I become extremely aware of my hand at your waist, holding you against me.

I lick over my lips, watching yours part as you stare at them. I lean down a little, just a little closer. Your head tilts up toward me. I lick my lips again, parting them. Your gaze flickers over my face, your entire body craning up toward me. I let my eyelids lower and when you stop breathing, I press my lips to yours.

Softly, you exhale, and then you melt against me. I release your hand and put both of mine on your waist, pulling you as close as I can as I continue kissing you.

I find myself wanting nothing but softness, kissing you as slowly and deliberately as I can. You breathe unsteadily, shyly kissing back. Your arms come around my neck and we are in each other's embrace. In that moment, I draw in a breath, and my heart becomes ice once more.

The hands that were so gingerly holding you just a moment ago now want to push you away, and as my eyes open fully, I do. I shove you away, so forcefully you stumble and fall, shock on your face. I cannot stand this weakness.

I stare you down as cruel lust races through my veins.

"Leave," I order harshly, pointing to the musician to make clear who I mean.

He doesn't hesitate, scrambling from the room and leaving you alone with me. I don't hesitate either, dropping to the floor to be on top of you.

I grab your wrists and hold you down, shoving up your skirts and yanking down your panties. You stare at me in horror, struggling as I unlace my pants and draw my throbbing cock out. I push inside you in the next moment, and you are so wet I go in easily.

You gasp, squirming and clenching around me, and I have to muster my self-control not to move. I have wanted this so long, despite my promise not to take you anymore. It is obvious on my face and in the pulsing of my traitorous cock, but I do not move. I know what will happen if I do.

You stare at me with desperation and confusion, and I grit my teeth.

"We can't do this," I say regretfully.

"I want you," you say, and those three words stoke my arousal like nothing else.

I cannot stop myself. I draw out slowly just to push back in, gasping at the brief pleasure. You do the same, throbbing around me as you try to draw me in.

"You aren't getting the potion anymore," I remind you through gritted teeth. "If I spill inside you, that's it."

"Oh," is all you manage to say, your eyes so wide and innocent. I want to destroy you, but I don't move, holding you down by your wrists because I can.

"I..." you begin to say, and I listen. "...want..." My heart speeds up, my body ready to give it to you.

"I don't want that."

My eyes narrow, the sympathy leaving me. I begin grinding into you, pulling out just enough to shove back in and make you whimper.

"Please..." you gasp, eyes pointed at the ceiling in desperation.

"Beg me for it," I demand harshly, almost desperate.

"For... what?" you pant, squirming at the pleasure I deliver you.

I regard you coldly. "For my seed. Inside you." I grind into you again. "In your womb." I feel perfectly in control. "For my child."

"What...?" you gasp, your gaze returning to me.

"You want it, don't you?" I challenge. "You want me to make you mine. To claim you. Give you my child. Let all of _Asgard_ know who you belong to."

My tongue drips with persuasion, my cock filling you the way you want it.

"You want to be with me," I tell you. "Forever. That's why you came back, isn't it? You got that idea when we visited Helena. I saw it in your eyes. I saw it again when I told you you would be my consort. When you briefly believed I would force you to carry my child. I see it now. You want to be a mother. And you want me to be the father."

My words are cruel, attacking you in your vulnerability.

"Oh Norns," you sob, squirming as you realize how helpless you are.

"Don't you?" I insist and buck into you.

"Oh, please..." You gasp, turning your head away in your attempt to escape. Beautiful tears roll down your cheeks, only increasing my lust for you. "Please no."

It is a pleasure watching you crumble, and I don't want to stop in the slightest.

"You still love me," I continue easily. "We both know that. How about it, hm?"

Your mind is mine, little pet. Crumbling with each word I speak, falling so beautifully at my feet. What I plan to do, is _step_ on it.

"Do you want to be useful?" I hiss cruelly. "You could be my brood mare. Bear me an heir. More than one, actually. I'm sure your body is useful for that. And you'll get to sleep with me every once in a while. That's what you _want_ , isn't it?"

My words are vile, spewing from my mouth and stabbing you like jagged daggers. I feel no remorse. I just want to cause you pain.

"Maybe I'll even let you see them on occasion. Perhaps on their birthdays, you'll get to talk to them and see how well I'm _raising_ them."

The pain finally floods over in your eyes, and where I expect you to go limp, you begin to scream and thrash beneath me.

I jerk back in surprise, releasing you and sitting back on my knees. You follow suit, scrambling to sit up and hiding your face with your hand. With the other one, you shuffle toward me and grasp my cock, quickly jerking me off.

I hiss and shudder, immediately a slave to the sensations. I have no time to question you, for my release overtakes me, my balls emptying in a blinding climax, spilling over your hand.

I gasp, coming down from the pleasure as my cock throbs with aftershocks. You pull your hand away, and I watch you wipe my cum into the carpet, still shaking and crying.

I admit I was not expecting this reaction, this desperation to protect yourself from my seed. You look like a mess, my darling, and now I want nothing more than to soothe you.

"Let me," I offer, reaching for your leg and touching your thigh.

"No," you sob, trying to turn away from me.

"Come, it will make you feel better," I soothe, taking you in my arms and bodily moving you toward me and forward onto my lap. I let my hand slip between your legs, seeking out the moisture there.

You continue sobbing, but you sit on my lap and grind into my palm. I slide two fingers inside you, my other hand at your waist to hold you steady. I insistently stroke and curl them against your pleasure spot, building you up while my palm presses against your clit. You gasp, finally giving in and grabbing my shoulders to ride my hand.

"That's it," I praise softly, stroking you steadily. "Good girl. Pleasure yourself with my hand. There you are. You deserve to cum. Just take it. Take your pleasure. Don't hold back."

You cry and let out your frustrations by fucking yourself on my fingers, hands clutching at my shoulder. Unashamedly, you seek your pleasure until you gush and come undone around me. Pride fills me as I watch you, working you all the way through it. What a good girl you are, my darling.

Gently, I draw my fingers out of you, letting you slump against me. I lick them clean, my other arm already curling protectively around you. Finally, I embrace you fully, rocking you slowly back and forth.

"Shh, that's a good girl," I soothe, caressing your head. "Relax. Rest against me; it's alright. You did so well today."

A good amount of my spite leaves me and I feel the need to apologize.

"I'm sorry," I sigh. "Do you want me to leave you alone before the ceremony? I think you deserve a break."

You nod against me, so exhausted. Your eyes droop shut, and you fall asleep safely in my arms. I hold and rock you for a while longer, thinking back to Lady Anise. I'll have to sleep with her again tonight, and most likely a few more times after that. My heart, however, knows what it wants.

I gaze down at your sleeping face, my fingers brushing back your hair. I can't lie to myself anymore and pretend I don't want you.

I want you more than anything.

Slowly, I lift you up in my arms, stepping toward the door and starting my path to bring you safely back to your bed.


	4. Loki POV: The Ball and the Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's POV of chapter 33, requested by Pandi_Moo and diedremagnusdotrir

I watch as servants and seamstresses help you into your gown and your ceremonial armor. Piece by piece, the outfit I have carefully selected is brought together on you. The blue, a shade Frigga often wore. The court will recognize it, see the former Allmother in you. They will see fertility, warmth, and kindness.

It is perhaps a bit strange to dress you like my mother. The court, however, craves familiarity. Where I am the opposite of the former king, you must bring tradition. You must show that you are ready to bear my heirs, even if it is all a trick.

The servants step away, their work completed. All turn toward me, seeking my approval. I let my gaze sweep over your form, avoiding your eyes. This is nothing but a formality, after all.

"How is it, your majesty?" one of them asks. "Is this how you imagined it?"

It is exactly how I imagined it. Perhaps a bit too familiar, but it has the desired effect on you.

"You look like a queen," I tell you honestly, and that is all I am willing to say.

The servants seem enthused. "Well, then! On to the hair!"

They move you to the dressing table, ready to style your hair and paint your face. This part does not require my approval.

"I shall take my leave, then," I announce. "I must get ready as well. We shall see each other soon."

You nod at me through the mirror, and I take my leave. I return to my chambers, where my own garments have been laid out for me. I do not call upon my servants, wishing to be alone as I dress.

I undress with a wave of my hand and a flicker of my seidr, but proceed to put each item on by hand. Black breeches and boots, a black shirt and a black doublet. I button it up, then tie the equally black cravat around my neck, tucking it in.

Asgard's king wears gold. Black, in comparison, is a modest color. In front of the gentry, I will be a shadow at your side. I do not wish to detract from your importance, but I will still look imposing.

I step to a mirror and comb my hair from my face, then ruffle it out over my shoulders. There is a crown in one of the drawers, too, but I will put on such an ostentatious symbol when we are truly ready to leave.

As I wait for you to finish being prepared, I run over the entire ceremony in my mind several more times. The entrance, the speech, the vows. The gift. The dance.

I am less afraid that you will defy me, and more afraid that I will slip up somehow. I did leave you in peace the last days, and I hope this grants me some of your good will. The dynamic between us has changed, and I cannot tell where this will lead. I dream of you often lately, but I rarely remember most of it. My feelings for you remain miniscule and obscure.

A knock at my doors startles me out of my thoughts.

"King Loki, your darling is here!" the seamstress calls out through the thick wood.

My legs carry me to the door and I pull it open to let you in. Immediately, I am struck by your beauty. The servants truly know what they are doing, everything put together from your hair to your shoes. I take you in, and notice you look almost shocked at my appearance. I'm confused, since I doubt there is anything spectacular about me, and so I question you about it.

"Something the matter, pet?" I ask openly. "You're staring at me."

The seamstress titters like a schoolgirl, which I gladly ignore.

"You're... dressed in all black," you answer hesitantly. "Is this ceremony going to involve a funeral?"

Ah. That is it. I roll my eyes and turn away from the door.

"No, of course not. Now, come in. We have things to discuss."

You come inside, and I shut the door, leaving us alone.

"Are you nervous?" I ask, walking to my mirror and beckoning you to follow.

You trail after me, answering honestly. "Yes."

I take you by the shoulders and position you in front of the mirror.

"You look beautiful," I say equally honestly. "Let me just cast an illusion over your collar."

I weave my seidr over your collar, transforming it into a golden necklace with an opal in the shape of a raindrop.

"Thank you," you say, watching it happen with a hint of awe.

I nod in acknowledgement, taking your hand and bringing you over to my sofa so we can have a seat.

"Do you have any questions or doubts about your duties tonight?" I ask.

You shake your head.

"Good," I answer, mentally crossing this item off my list. "Because if you fail to perform convincingly, I will-"

"Yes, I know what you will do!" you rudely interrupt me. "No need to say it!"

I gaze at you, realizing you are indeed still aware of my power over you.

"Alright," I give in, sighing as I move onto the next step. "I trust you with this. I will now withdraw all my previous orders. You may speak my name and behave freely. For tonight, at least. Do not do anything foolish."

You nod in agreement. "Yes... Loki."

You say my name with great care, still afraid you will be hurt. I merely gaze at you, letting the silence stretch out. You avoid my eyes, looking at my clothes instead.

"You look good, too, by the way," you get yourself to say. "But don't you think black will send the wrong message?"

"Thank you," I reply smoothly, "but I have chosen our garments with purpose."

"Which is?" you immediately ask.

"None of your concern." I turn my head away dismissively.

I see your glare from the corner of my eye.

"You don't have to be rude," you complain, pouting.

"Pardon me, I am merely concerned that you will mess this up somehow," I state honestly, gazing back at you.

"Good to know you have such faith in me," you huff, shifting and sitting up more stiffly.

I narrow my eyes.

"You haven't practiced the dance enough," I begin to list. "And you are unfamiliar with royal etiquette. I also doubt your acting skills. If I see you truly lost, I will be forced to give you orders, and then you might find yourself in pain when you slip up."

You quickly notice the tension in my voice.

"You really are nervous," you remark, ignoring what I said. "Don't worry, wedding jitters are normal. I was wondering, when I'm your consort, what does that make you? It's not like you'll be my husband. What do I call you?"

The answer to that is far too easy.

"Your king," I reply bluntly.

To my surprise, you look compassionate.

"Loki, I... Is there anything I can do to make you less nervous? You're not very pleasant to be around when you're stressed."

I am tempted to decline, but I can think of _one_ thing. The thought of you subserviently on the floor, giving me pleasure despite your intricate make-up, has my arousal stirring.

"Are you offering to fellate me?" I ask you with a raised brow.

You immediately fluster. "What? N-no! That's not-! That's not the only thing I could do in this situation!"

Playing innocent, I see.

"Come now," I coo, smiling suggestively at you. "You've put the idea in my head now… or do you want me to go out there like this?"

I shift so you can see that the thought has already had an effect on me. Your eyes widen.

"Get your libido under control!" you gasp like an affronted lady of court.

I chuckle, but I rather would like some attention.

"What can I say, I had a very pleasant dream last night," I tell you. "It's still lingering in my mind."

There's a strange expression on your face, and you clear your throat before you ask "What... kind of dream?"

The dream had been... pleasant. I remember being with you, exchanging affection and making love. Of course, I can never let you know that, and so I do what I do best. Lie.

"I dreamt of locking you in the stocks and whipping you until your back was bloody, while all of Asgard watched," I begin, putting as much sadistic pleasure into my words as possible. "Then I grabbed your hips and-"

"Please stop!" you interrupt loudly, quickly covering your ears. "I don't need to hear that!"

I laugh at you, but stop talking. Instead, I adjust my pants, attempting to will my arousal away. I merely need a few deep breaths, and I should get myself under control.

"If you ask nicely, I'll leave the room so you can take care of that," you suddenly say, and I realize you've been staring at me.

Another mocking laugh escapes me. "You say that as if you think I wouldn't do it right in front of you. No, pet, I have enough self-control. Give it a moment."

I resume taking deep breaths, but you suddenly slide closer and reach up to gently scratch over my scalp.

I stare at you, immediately feeling heat erupt from your touch.

"What are you doing?" I hiss, not appreciating the sabotage.

"Relieving your stress," you reply innocently, tugging on my hair in an all too pleasant way. I groan softly and tilt my head toward you, letting your wicked fingers massage my scalp.

I wish I could stop you, but such affection is more blissful than anything else, and I submit to it. You draw your fingers through my hair, leaning in and whispering hotly into my ear.

"You can touch yourself, if you want."

My cock throbs against my will and a snarl tears from my throat. I move to unfasten my pants, keeping my head tilted toward you so that you can continue with your massage. I do not know what has come over me, but your gentle touch feels so good.

You caress my head and my face while I attempt to pleasure myself, rubbing over my cock and panting from the sensations. You stroke over my throat, my Adam's apple bobbing against your hand as I swallow. I continue stroking myself, turning slightly to watch you.

You scratch over my head with one hand, tracing my throat with the other. Here and there, you press down on it, making my breath catch.

My mouth falls open and I buck up into my hand, going faster. I'd hate to admit it, but the gentle dominance you exude over me is getting me to the edge.

Your fingers slide over my lips, then push inside. I give you a heated look, licking at them and sucking them deeper.

"Stop," you suddenly say, just as I am getting close.

My eyes widen, but for some reason, my hand goes still. I question you with my look, and you draw your fingers from my mouth to reach for my cock.

"Let me," you offer.

I feel surprised, but I draw my hand away and sit up straight to let you.

Gently, you drag your wet fingertips up and down my engorged length, sending torturous sensations through me. My fingers curl into fists in my attempt to stay quiet, but you simply continue with your exploration.

You touch it here and there, swiping your thumb over the head and causing torturous sparks of pleasure. My cock jumps at your touch, eager to be touched.

I curse escapes me, and I swallow it down to reason with you.

"A... As much as I enjoy your worshipful touch..." I take a shaky breath. "...would you please get on with it? We do... not have all night. The ceremony is due to begin, and... my hair must be a mess right n-now."

It is difficult to speak while being assaulted with pleasurable sensations like this, but I cannot bring myself to stop you.

You ignore me entirely, sliding off the sofa to kneel before me, where you grasp my cock in one hand and caress my balls with the other. My breath hitches and I reach my breaking point.

"Damn you, pet!" I snarl desperately, grabbing your wrist and yanking you away from me to get the sensations to stop. "Can you not be trusted with anything?"

Panting, I wrap my hand around yours and bring it to my cock, stroking myself properly this time. You don't resist, leaning forward and taking the tip into your mouth, applying gentle suction. Your flick you tongue against me and my hips buck forward.

Torturously, you bring me to the edge and I stroke myself over it. Gasping in pleasure, I spend myself in your mouth. You work me through it, and when you draw away, you keep your lips closed and do not swallow.

I stare dazedly at you, and as I catch my breath, I slowly realize that you are still holding my cum in your mouth.

You gaze up at me, sitting there on your knees and not making a move as I stare back. Perhaps you've grown so used to hearing my orders, you are lost without them. I do not have the energy to control you today.

"Are you waiting for something?" I ask. "Swallow it, if you want, or spit it out." I motion toward the bathroom.

You tilt your head at me, remaining silent.

"Are you waiting for an order?" I ask, suddenly feeling guilty. "Pet, I... I really am trying to be kind to you today. I don't want to order you to please me while you wear the collar. I truly do not care if you swallow or not."

You nod at me, moving to sit beside me again. Then you decide to swallow the vile substance in your mouth. Your gaze flits away from mine and you lick over your lips. I am slightly astounded by your actions.

"Do you... like that?" I inquire, wondering for the first time if it's more than my power making you do this.

"What? Your cum?" you ask back all to casually. I wince, not having wanted to discuss it in such detail.

"Not just that," I correct. "Pleasuring me."

You only shrug. "I guess. Why? Are you getting shy all of a sudden?"

A part of me wants to get defensive, make some sort of jab, but today is not the day. I quickly stand and fasten my pants again.

"As I said, I am as nervous as you are," I admit, already thinking ahead again. "And... you look beautiful."

I move to the bathroom to clean myself up and fix the strands of hair you have disheveled. You trail after me, also moving to wash your hands. 

"You already told me that," you point out.

I try to think back, realizing that I indeed complimented you already. I don't mind knowing that, for some reason.

"Then I said it twice," I brush it off, gazing at you through the mirror as I smooth my hair back.

"I like this," you say, upbeat. "Us, being nice to each other."

You are most likely trying to goad me into _not_ being nice to you, but the ceremony is more important.

"A lot rests on us being nice to each other tonight," I tell you. "We best act the part." I decide it is time to retrieve the crown now, opening the drawer I have put it in.

"So the rebels won't martyr me when you eventually kill me," you add facetiously, checking your appearance in the mirror.

I give you a long look as I take the crown out of its box, trying to decide how much of that you believe.

"Yes. So the rebels won't martyr you," I eventually confirm, no humor in my voice. I place the crown upon my head, regarding myself in the mirror. It's simple, more of a piece of jewelry than a symbol of status.

"You said you won't kill me," you continue the conversation, looking between your reflection and mine. "What will happen if I run into one of them and they figure out you made me your servant and the whole consort thing was a lie?"

It is surprising how little I care about rebellion. If I were to be honest, I would say I am doing all this solely for you. Because, even if this leads nowhere, knowing any child I sire with you will be my heir is desirable. To you, however, it seems as though I am doing this for the public. Pretending you will carry my heir, or, alternatively actually making you do so.

"Would you prefer the alternatives?" I suddenly ask, unable to stop my curiosity. I give you a look in the mirror as I right the crown on my head.

You merely shrug. "I'm not sure. I definitely don't want to die. And I want my friends to be safe. And I want you to be nice to me."

That all seems like very little to ask for in return for bearing my child.

"And if those conditions are met?" I press. "Would you then prefer to have my child over being my servant?"

Once more, you shrug. "I didn't get the impression you would want that. You've just recently claimed the throne. You still have time to find someone better."

Someone better, such as a woman I do not love.

"Considering the political advantage, I would prefer a child from a member of royalty," I answer, weighing each word carefully. "Perhaps another realm, to strengthen our alliance."

You look at me, not seeming affected by this as I had hoped.

"What about you?" you ask curiously. "What do you want? Don't you think you're too young for such a burden? If you weren't king, would you even consider it?"

You talk of my youth, and yet I was the one groomed for the throne from the moment I could walk. You are the only free one here, or you would be, had I not chained you down.

"I am young," I confirm. "So are you. But I am not opposed to having a family."

I regard you, letting my eyes travel over your body meaningfully.

"...Eventually."

I hope you understand what I am trying to say, for I do not wait for an answer and stride from the room. I retrieve my cape and hook it over my shoulders, internally steeling myself for what is to come.

You trail after me. "Is it time?"

"Just about," I confirm with a look in your direction. "Take my arm. You will walk and sit to my left."

I offer you my left arm and you take it.

"Who sits to your right?" you ask as I lead you from my chambers.

"You are to the right from the view of a spectator," I clarify quickly, striding toward the banquet hall. "Any of my heirs would sit on the left side of me."

"And your queen?" you ask, seemingly unable to stop your curiosity. It is beginning to vex me a little, but that is merely because of my nerves.

"She would sit where you sit," I indulge you. "Right now, you are most important. A queen is a consort, unless she rules. But a consort is not always a queen. You would simply move down the table, were I to marry."

The servants we pass giggle as they genuflect. I only feel more annoyance.

"Have you decided yet which realm you're going to marry into?" your next question comes. Of course you wouldn't just stop with your curiosity.

"Vanaheim is a traditional choice," I answer neutrally. "But our alliance there holds steady. Perhaps I should consider Alfheim."

"You're gonna marry an elf?" you mock me with a laugh. "Ooh, what about Midgard? No, too primitive, right? Although, I bet there are some mortals there who would love to quite literally get fucked into the mattress by you."

Now my irritation bleeds into my expression and I quicken my gait. I will never again meddle with Midgard. Humans do not know what is good for them.

"The realm that really needs bonding is Jotunheim," your rambling continues. "After you tried to destroy it, and all. Maybe you should marry into that. Wait no—I can't imagine you with one of those monsters. It would be like sticking your dick in an ice box!"

As soon as you mention Jotunheim, I know you are about to say something I will not like. I do not bother dissecting the anger your words provoke, merely yanking on your arm until you stumble.

"Will you shut your mouth?" I snarl, my glare causing fear to flicker in your eyes. "Stop. Talking."

With wide eyes, you straighten up and give me a nod. I am aware your collar has responded to my order, but I don't bother rectifying that. I cannot stand to hear one more word from you.

"Good," I say as dryly as I can and continue forward. The guards open the door to the banquet hall for us, and I take one last moment to compose myself before striding in with you by my side.

I let my gaze sweep over the interior, seeing that all has been arranged as ordered, braziers lit and banners hung. The nobility in attendance all rise to show their respect as we walk in, and the servants along the perimeter bow and curtsy.

Being in control of the entire room allows a calm to finally settle over me, and I confidently lead you to our seats at the head table. Servants pull the chairs out for us and I motion for you to sit.

While you quietly take your place, I regard the guests, remaining on my feet.

"You may be seated," I say, and chairs slide along the floor as everyone sits.

"Dear friends, members of the court," I begin my rehearsed speech. "I am glad you all could come to celebrate this occasion. The beginnings of my reign have been a shaky one, but I feel we have made much progress over the last year."

I leave a pause so they can murmur in agreement. I have worked with these people for months now, reshaping Asgard to my vision.

"Although bad luck came to us in the form of an assassin, victory and fortune are, as always, on my side." I gesture to you with a sly smile, causing some people clap and nod at me in congratulations.

"She was a gift sent by the Norns themselves, or so it would seem, for she is sitting here today, by my side, and she has been a blessing of happiness and a reprieve from the harshness of ruling. Today I announce my very first consort."

There is applause, smiles thrown our way. They are excited to see Asgard's legacy continue, as I expected.

Smiling humbly, I introduce you by name and gesture for you to stand, offering you my hand. You take it, standing from your seat to look at me in wonder. Your eyes reflect the torchlight and it is hard not to feel something in this moment.

"My darling," I begin, adding gentleness to my voice. "Your beauty outshines the moon and the stars. You shed light into my darkest corners, and give me something to return to after a long day of ruling. You may have come with the intent to kill me, but instead you stole my heart."

As I speak the lines of my script, the words become ash on my tongue. All around us, the guests coo and chuckle, but your gaze only reflects the pain of speaking such lies.

I widen my smile, forcing tears into my eyes with surprising ease.

"My sweet, I have a gift for you." I let my voice become hoarse with emotion. "If you would accept it."

I release your hand and reach into my storage dimension, pulling my box out with strings of seidr. Some people gasp as it appears seemingly out of thin air, and you, too, look awed.

You eagerly take it when I hand it to you, undoing the green ribbon around it. Carefully, you lift the lid, and tears spill from your eyes when you look at the dagger.

I feel a hint of sympathy, watching you study the beautiful weapon. I had it made for you, for this occasion, and although it should mean nothing, I know it does for you.

You hold the dagger and the sheath up, and the people in the crowd react with approval and awe. I can see that this is working the way I planned.

"Speak, dear," I say, releasing my previous order. "Do you like it? It is symbolic of the night you first came to me, with a dagger strapped to your leg. A dagger you were unable to wield against me, for it was love that sparked between us and snuffed out your rage."

Tears still stream from your eyes as you stare at the dagger, and you whisper a broken "Thank you." Then, quickly, you compose yourself, repeating it louder as you meet my eyes again. You force a smile onto your lips, and begin your part of the announcement.

"My king," you say. "My Loki."

A pain twists in my heart.

"I... am endlessly touched by this gift, but my love was not won by you through gifts or riches."

I realize you are deviating from the script, and after a brief moment of panic, narrow my eyes at you in warning.

"No, I love you because you are kind and gentle," you continue undeterred. "Because your heart burns with fiery passion. I believe I came to you for a reason. A reason beyond you and me, beyond king and assassin. I came to you, because I was guided by a thread of fate and a thread of hope."

It is evident you speak of the second time you came to me, not the first. Are you trying to tell me you don't regret it, even after all I did to you?

"It was as if I could feel that fire, the warmth of it, and something in me flickered to life," you continue. "My own warmth spread through my heart, and that warmth knew your warmth should never go out. It is my duty to you, my king, to make sure you are kind. To make sure you always have love in your heart. A little candle, warm and bright, for you to keep in the winter."

Your words jar me, triggering a memory I can't identify. You've said this to me before, somewhere. In a dream. I can't remember it, but I am _sure_ I've heard these words in my sleep.

"I love you so very, very much, Loki," you say gently, taking my hand. "Just like you have given me a gift, I will give you one in return." Your put your other hand atop mine and my mind reels. "A child."

I can only stare at you, the banquet hall as distant as the elusive dream. I know your words are false, but they speak to me on two levels. One that gets lost in the noise of the guests, the other that pierces through the storm inside me.

"If not now, then when you are ready..." you are saying, stepping even closer. "...I shall grant you an heir. A strong daughter."

I hear the meaning of your words, but the feelings in my heart come entirely from the way you look at me, so sad even when you smile.

"...Or perhaps a son with the wit and the heart of his father," you add. "Either way, you shall have your heirs. That is my gift to you."

There is silence, and I know I must speak. I close my eyes and let the false tears flow out. When I open them again, I have once more assumed the role of your lover.

"My love," I say, letting my words fill with emotions. "I wish the joy I feel in this moment accompanies us for a lifetime."

I don't hesitate and simply lean in to kiss you, my hand cradling the back of your head. Our audience claps and cheers, but I do not share their joy. I kiss you, and my heart feels like a weight in my chest. You clutch at me, receiving my tongue in your mouth with eagerness. I only pull away once I have thoroughly ravaged your mouth and left you gasping for air.

The guests show their joy, and I hold you in my stare until I turn away and take my seat.

"Let the banquet begin!" I announce, causing the servants to begin moving. You have taken your seat beside me again, and the guests turn their attention toward the food that is being rolled in.

I give you a glance to check up on you, putting my hand on your knee reassuringly. You look up at me from where you were fidgeting with your dagger, your eyes wide and betraying your nerves.

"It's alright, dear," I say as softly as I can. "You did well. Eat now. Enjoy yourself. The dance is the only thing you must do now, then you may go into the gardens and get some fresh air, if you wish it."

You nod stiffly, returning your gaze to the plate before you.

Servants arrive at our table, asking for our meal choices. I can see your shock at the selection and decide to speak first.

"I shall start with the cream of chanterelle," I tell the one who asked.

She serves me the soup, then turns to you.

"And for you, my lady?"

You look as if you are about to drool.

"Can I have... one of everything?"

I feel a hint of amusement at your request, deciding not to intervene.

"Of course, my lady," the servant eventually says, giving a nod to the others.

They begin serving you portions of every meal choice and course, making it quite the ordeal. I decide to lean toward one of them and add my own bit of mischief.

"Pregnancy cravings," I tell them with a smile, seeing you stiffen from the corner of my eye.

"Oh-!" they say, looking relived at the explanation.

I give them a smirk and a wink, causing them to fluster and quickly resume their task. Satisfied, I lean back in my chair.

You receive all your food, and the servants finally move on.

"May I eat?" you ask, eagerly staring at the dishes before you.

I give you a chuckle. "My soup would go cold, were I to wait for everyone to be served, so the same applies to you. Go on."

I watch you slide samples of several dishes onto your plate and begin eating them in no particular order. I assume you simply go by what looks interesting, not what actually goes together.

"Stars, this is good!" you moan, seemingly happy with your selection.

A genuine smile of amusement forms on my face, and I can't pretend I don't share some of your joy. You begin to notice I have yet to eat, and throw me a questioning look as you chew.

"You know," I say, feeling nothing if not mischievous. "It is not customary to eat all five courses at once, but I admire your courage in mixing the desert course with the main course."

You almost choke and your eyes go wide.

"These were supposed to be courses?" you exclaim between coughs. "Couldn't you have told me?!"

I laugh, feeling unashamed amusement at your humiliation. "It's alright. I forget sometimes you are an innocent peasant unaccustomed to the royal ways. Eat as much as you want. Fill your belly for once."

You glare at me and haughtily resume eating.

"You know," you huff with a full mouth, "this tastes really good. I don't get why people eat these courses separately."

You are quite endearing in this moment, and I find myself wanting to partake in your fun. With a smile, I take my fork and pick a piece of fruit from your plate, then swipe it through my soup and put it in my mouth. My face pulls into a grimace as I taste the sweet fruit juice combined with the savory soup, but I eat it regardless.

"I will have to disagree with you on that one," I say once I have swallowed, but the pure joy on your face has me smiling again pretty quickly. Doing such a thing was entirely worth it.

I proceed to eat my meal normally, while you continue to pick and choose between the dishes before you. The servants come around several more times, delivering the next courses to everyone but you, who has everything. I suppose you feel pretty good about yourself, until you urgently tap my arm.

"Loki," you whisper, looking rather panicked.

"Yes, darling?" Worry immediately twists in my midsection against my will.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," you whisper hoarsely. "The longer I see or smell this food, the worse it gets."

Two very strong emotions rise up inside me. One, worry, on which I immediately act by reaching for you and holding you steady. I can’t disregard that you could have caught an illness, or even that the food contains poison. The other emotion, however, is a very strong spark of hope and desire.

Your nausea, your strong reactions to scents, your strange cravings... are all symptoms to something I shouldn't even dare to think about.

"Do you think you will make it to a bathroom?" I ask, only revealing the worry to you.

"Yes, but I need to go now," you urge, looking sicker by the second. "Just tell me where the closest one is, and I'll make it there alone."

"By the kitchens," I quickly tell you. "Go. I'll tell those who ask that you went to put your gift away before the dance."

I snatch up the sheathed dagger and hand it to you, then help you to your feet. You hurry off, taking the route around the tables, and leave the hall. The dagger carries an enchantment that will inform me of its location when you wield it. My hope is that, should any danger befall you, you will reach for it, thus alerting me and allowing me to find you. As much as I trust you, I feel safer having given it to you.

I watch you disappear through the doors, finding it difficult to relax once you are out of sight. A few guests turn to give me questioning looks, wondering why you left in such a hurry. I know I told you the excuse I'd make up, but it is not the one I go with.

"My darling has been losing her breakfast lately," I say easily, putting on a sympathetic expression. "The strong smells of the courses seem to have set her off. You must have seen how she craved the strangest things."

Many faces light up with recognition, some looking amused. I begin responding to their well-wishes and questions, slowly finishing my food and drink while I wait for your return.

The banquet soon draws to a close and the servants begin clearing the table. The guests stand and move about a bit, mingling and conversing while they wait for the dance to begin. All I can do is stand by the door and let anxiety churn inside me. The enchantment has yet to alert me of any danger, so I can only assume you are still taking care of things in the bathroom. Still, I'd rather not interrupt the events because something serious has happened.

Thankfully, you come back into the hall not a while later, and I can see that you have been crying. A part of me feels guilty for not having been there to comfort you, but I had little choice.

I quickly take you in my arms and pull you further into the hall. I can see the trepidation in your eyes as you gaze around at all the people, now eagerly awaiting the dance.

"Am I late?" you whisper, sniffling slightly and attempting to keep your voice steady.

"Just in time," I tell you quietly. "How are you? Are you ready for the dance? Don't worry about anything. Just remember the steps and let me lead you."

You nod, seeming to steel yourself.

"Yeah, I... I think I'm ready," you say shakily, and you look rather nervous. Unfortunately, you will just have to go through this.

"Alright. Wait for our song to start and I shall lead you onto the dance floor. Do you have the dagger? I assumed you would keep it on you."

You nod, which is a relief to me.

"Good. After we've danced, you are free to mingle as you'd like, or stroll into the gardens. I want you to stab anyone whose hands stray where they're not supposed to."

It is best to tell you now the dagger is meant for self-defense. You do not know what wealthy nobles are capable of, and I'd rather not risk anything. This is as much for your safety as my own, for a king's consort is always a target against him.

You clear your throat, your body language telling me you are not fond of the advice. Regardless, I hope you take it.

The musicians begin playing the first notes of our song, and I watch you visibly tense up. I quickly take your hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Just breathe," I lean in and tell you, pulling you with me onto the dance floor. The room has gone quiet, and I feel calm with all eyes upon us.

In the center of the open space, I step in front of you and let you go. Waiting for the right note, I dip into a bow and extend it back out to you. You give me a nervous look but repeat the process, curtsying and taking it.

I place my hand on your waist and move into the first step, leading you along with me in time to the music. You grab my shoulder, remembering to gaze into my eyes as I told you.

The steps come easily to me, and although I see the concentration on your face, you manage to keep up with the music. One turn, you misstep, but I quickly pull you along and your stumble is hardly noticed. You wince in embarrassment, but I only smile at you, and you quickly concentrate on the steps again, my smile infecting your lips.

I twirl you all around the dance floor, and finally, as the music ends, I spin you around and drop you into a dip just to kiss you. You stare at me in surprise, but when you hear the enthusiastic applause, I see the happiness on your face. It's easy to forget our troubles in this moment.

Pulling away, I release you and face the guests to bow courteously. You follow suit, curtsying, before quickly leaving the dance floor with me.

Near the tables once more, I notice your elated smile and your heaving chest. I can only continue to smile.

"Well done, pet," I praise you genuinely, taking a glass of fruit seltzer. "I expected you to step on my feet far more often."

"Thank... you," you reply uncertainly, giving me an inquisitive look. I see you reach for a glass of your own, and something inside me panics and pushes your hand away.

"Hey!" you immediately protest. "I only drank water all dinner, I deserve a little-"

I quickly regain my composure, pretending this wasn't an emotional reaction to the insane idea that you might truly be with my child.

"You're supposed to be pregnant," I say as nonchalantly as I can, lifting my glass to my lips and letting the bittersweet alcohol sparkle on my tongue.

You throw a glare at me. "Fine. Then I'm going to the gardens. Whereto?"

I point toward the doors leading outside. "Through there. Leave them open; the guests may wish to stroll through there later on."

You nod at me, and just like that, we are apart once more. I turn toward the dancing guests, slowly finishing my drink and taking a moment to myself. A few guests do begin to follow you after a while, but, to my displeasure, most come to converse with me.

I am caught up in endless exchanges of pleasantries, hearing congratulations after congratulations and even a few offers of additional consorts. I decline them all with a laugh, truly having no interest in them.

Noblemen the age of my would-be father make comments about your figure, some positive and some daringly negative. Already, I am tasked with defending your honor.

"My consort was not merely selected for her appearance," I say pleasantly. "I chose her for her mind, her spirit, her ability to fight-"

There's a jarring sensation when the enchantment of your dagger triggers. I feel a rush of adrenaline, your own fear flooding into me. Immediately, I move, following the bright beacon of your distress.

I am blind to the guests trying to get my attention, pushing outside and honing in on your location. I decide to proceed with caution, cloaking myself from sight while I follow the outside wall of the palace. Just paces away from the courtyard, hidden from the guards, I finally spot you, held between two men and struggling against their grips. Before you stands a man in purple robes, one I recognize from the many meetings I have given him. Lord Nilsen.

A rapid change of emotions flash through me, fear, rage, guilt, and an intense desire to hurt someone. I push them all down in one moment, quickly approaching until I can hear what is happening.

"Loki doesn't care for me!" you are yelling at the lord. "He's just doing this because of the rebel-mph!"

One of the henchmen shoves a rag into your mouth and gags you, but your words have already struck me. I freeze several paces away and stare at you. Is that what you think of me?

Lord Nilsen begins to chuckles, approaching you and stooping down to pick something up. The enchantment triggers again, jerking me from my thoughts, and I realize that he has picked up your dagger.

"Pretty thing," he says, while you make a noise of protest. "A gift from the heart. How would King Loki feel, I wonder, when he finds it sticking in yours?"

You whimper and cry, desperately shaking your head. It tears at my heart, but I only steel myself. I can summon an illusion of myself blindly, needing nothing more than my connection to the seidr to control it. I need not look and it is there.

"Drop it," my duplicate snarls, giving voice to my suppressed anger as I slowly step past Nilsen to approach you and your guards from behind.

"Ah, there you are," Nilsen says all too happily, immediately turning to the illusion. It is second nature to see him from my duplicate's eyes and respond accordingly. Nilsen's men drag you further back, and you scream through the gag, looking at my duplicate just like everyone else.

"That doesn't belong to you," my illusion snarls, taking a step forward as I change my line of approach to remain undetected.

Suddenly, one of the men at your side draws his sword, pressing it to your throat with a nasty grin. Both me and my duplicate freeze in place.

"Ah, ah," Nilsen chastises the illusion. "None of that. You do as I say, and she doesn't get harmed. I'm sure you understand the rules."

I grit my teeth, but sneak closer, allowing my illusion to reflect my rage.

"Now, your little consort here says you don't care for her, but I think you do," he continues. "Show her how much you care for her. Drop all your weapons to the floor and lift your hands beside your head."

Momentarily, I think to lunge at your guards and save my pride, but I am not in the right position to do so without risking everything. I take a breath and close my eyes for a moment, allowing my duplicate to comply. He steps back and lifts his hands with obvious reluctance, a further illusion of all my daggers appearing before him in the grass.

"That's great, my king," Nilsen says, immediately pleased. "Wise choice. See? He does love you."

The last part was directed at you. You, who is staring at my duplicate with bewilderment. It's a stab to my heart.

"No?" Lord Nilsen asks, reflecting my disbelief. "Still don't believe it?" He focuses back on the illusion. "Why don't you show her? Go ahead and kneel."

I force myself not to succumb to rage and to continue arching around, approaching you and the hired guards from behind. My duplicate remains where he is.

"Ah? You won't kneel for her?" Nilsen drawls from where he stands in front of you. "What about this?"

Before I can do a thing, he has the dagger pointed right to your belly, grinning at the illusion with insufferable confidence.

My hands begin to shake with the urge to rip him apart, and I ball them into fists to still them, to do nothing. I'm standing behind you now, seeing how the shock on my duplicate's face couples with his trembling hands to create a look of humiliating fear.

"That's right," Lord Nilsen says smugly when he sees it. "I suspected she was pregnant. Do you want this child? Do you want future children with her? Then kneel."

It would be so easy to kill him where he stands, but in the process, the guards would be free to move against us. No, I want his death to be deliberate, planned and free from impulse. I decide then, that pride is not nearly as important as my revenge. Taking a breath, I calm myself.

"Is humiliation what you want from me?" I have my duplicate hiss, and then I lower him to his knees. Smug satisfaction rising up in me at the thought of my revenge, I dial up the humiliation even further. I watch myself shake with emotion, tears spilling from my eyes.

From what I can see of the lord, he is happily surprised, the success getting to his head as planned.

"It is one benefit," he smirks, turning to you and running his filthy hand over your cheek. "Look at your beloved king. He's kneeling for you. Isn't that nice? What else shall I make him do?"

Briefly, I am angered, wishing to sever that hand right away, but I calm myself.

He pulls the gag out of your mouth, wanting you to speak. You look distraught at the sight of my duplicate so powerless, and it gives me more satisfaction than I would like to admit.

"Make him leave," you beg Lord Nilsen, staring at my kneeling form.

"Leave?" the lord repeats disappointedly. "But that's not fun."

I am standing right behind all four of you, a cruel smile on my lips.

"Name your ransom," I have my duplicate hiss, angry helplessness on his face. "What do you want? Gold?"

"I wanted some of those lovely collars," Nilsen answers cockily, dragging his disgusting fingers over your neck and the collar hidden there. "But now I think I could ask for just about anything, and you would give it to me. First, order her to do everything I say."

You stiffen in fear in front of me, but I am willing to play further. I will bring this traitor as high as I can before I kill him.

"Pet. Obey his commands. It is for the best," my duplicate says, full of defeat.

You whimper, shaking violently, and Nilsen grins.

"Finally. Finally I have everything I ever wanted. Now, King Loki, surrender the throne to me or I will order your little flower to impale herself on her own dagger."

Now. Now is the time.

Slowly, my duplicate rises to his feet, all despair vanishing.

"No. I will not give you the throne."

"No?!" the lord repeats, angry and in disbelief. "You want her to die?"

My duplicate regards you calmly. "Of course not. But if you think you can make such ridiculous demands, you are a fool. We are done here."

As Nilsen teeters on the ledge, my duplicate turns and walks away.

"Come back!" the lord splutters. "Men, break her fingers! Make her scream!"

Now, I give him the push.

In his disorientation, I jump forward, dropping my concealment and twisting the head of one guard in the way I know will break his neck. I feel the _crack_ beneath my fingers, his body dropping to the ground as the rest of you take notice.

The other man suffers the same fate, his neck twisting violently under the force of my hands. Finally, nothing stands in the way of my anger, just in time for Nilsen to turn around and face me.

My fingers curl around the handles of my daggers before I've even realized I've summoned them, and at the same moment as he tries to lunge for you, I have flung one into his throat.

He lurches in place as it sticks its mark, giving off a panicked gurgling noise as blood fills his airway.

I immediately stalk toward him, preventing him from staggering back by kicking his legs out from under him. You barely register in my peripheral, my only focus on the vermin in front of me.

I swiftly crouch down and plunge my second dagger into his stomach. His entire body jolts on pain, his hands still clawing at his throat as he begins to suffocate, coughing up blood.

My veins sing with energy, everything hot and bright and invigorating.

"You don't get to do this," I hiss, pinning him down with my body. Hatred beyond anything is in my gaze, and I yank the dagger out only to plunge it in somewhere else. I wait for the desperate scream, then twist it just to hear it again.

His body writhes beneath me, and I grin briefly, before focusing once more on my rage.

"You don't get to threaten me," I snarl, yanking the knife out and stabbing him again. I have a broad knowledge of where all vital organs are, and I purposely avoid them.

"You don't get to touch her!" I no longer listen to my own words.

Blood splatters against me as I yank the knife out, watching his body writhe and fight against death beneath me.

I stab down, twist it, and his gaze is frantic and locked on mine. I am the only thing he is aware of.

"You don't get to look at her!"

I am the reason he suffers, the reason he screams in pain. I stab him again and again.

"You don't get to make her cry!"

Blood splatters out, coating me. It's his, and it's on me now. I grin again, breathing heavily, then notice his eyes have lost their focus.

"Listen to me!" I shout, backhanding him across the face. His eyes still don't focus, and so I stab him in the shoulder.

His entire body writhes, and briefly, his gazes flickers to me. I believe he can no longer breathe, but I do not care.

"Do you feel my rage?!" I yell, driving the dagger into his other shoulder. His body twitches briefly.

"Feel. The. Pain!" I punctuate my shouted words with further destruction to his lifeless corpse. 

"Let it guide you to _Helheim_!" Pain flares up in my throat as my voice becomes raw, and I finally stand up.

His bloodied corpse does not give me enough satisfaction, and so I drive my boot into his chest, brutally crushing his ribs. I do so again, just to hear them snapping beneath my foot. Again, and again, until I hear only the squelching of flesh. I don't realize I'm grinning until the sight of his face has my rage flare up once more, and as one final statement, I swiftly crush his skull beneath my heel.

Slowly, I take a step back, catching my breath as I survey the results. There is nothing left of him. Nothing at all.

When rational thought returns to my brain, I begin to remember your presence, quickly turning around to take in your horrified expression. My only instinct is to rush over and take you in my arms, tightening them around you.

Your body is solid and warm in my embrace, and it fills me with something I didn't know I needed. I hold you as tightly as I can, smearing you with blood as you retch drily. I can't let you go. I won't.

Minutes pass, in which you try to squirm away, but I hold you firmly. Finally, I manage to calm down, and I know what I must do. I scoop you up, heaving you into my arms and taking a step toward the palace.

"Loki, the dagger," you say weakly, making me pause. I follow your finger to where you are pointing, and expend just a little more seidr to transport it from the ground onto your chest. You wrap your hand around it and finally give in, holding onto me and allowing me to carry you.

I push through the servant's entrance, immediately causing several of them to scream in terror. I begin to realize what I must look like, covered entirely in blood, and the previous events are slowly being put into perspective in my mind.

The guests in the gardens must have heard the screams, and soon enough, someone will discover the bodies. A responsible king would go back to take care of this.

"Why did you come?" your weak whisper immediately pulls my attention. You're shaking in my arms, sobbing and crying against me. "Why did you kill him? Why did you do that? Why?"

I don't answer, because I don't need to. I carry you quickly to my chambers, closing the door behind us with my foot and bringing you to my bed. I lay you down on it and step back, watching you in the moonlight.

You quickly lift yourself on your elbows, still holding the dagger, and stare wide-eyed back at me.

"Loki?" you whisper uncertainly, a hint of fear in your pretty eyes.

I need you.

I crawl onto the bed with you, moving over you and briefly holding myself like this. Then my arms give out and I drop entirely onto your body, pressing you into the mattress.

A breath is forced from your lungs in a squeak, but you quickly put your arms around me. The nice, enveloping feeling returns, and with it a possessiveness like I have never felt before.

"I can't let another man touch you," I whisper to you. "I need to keep you safe."

"It's okay, Loki," you assure me quietly. "Nothing happened. You didn't have to come. I would have killed him myself sooner or later."

I lift my head, studying your soft face in the moonlight. The longer I look at it, the more I make up my mind.

"No," I say firmly. "You keep this dagger on you, do you hear me? It will protect you. It is the only reason I knew to come."

You bring the dagger to your face, looking at it with awe. "Is it enchanted...?"

I nod, feeling strangely proud of my foresight. "Put it under your pillow at night and strap it to your leg during the day. This is an order, understood?"

I add the last part to be perfectly safe, even though I trust you to do it.

You nod without complaint, lowering it again.

"I'll kill every man who touches you," I breathe out a promise, tracing my fingers along your hairline. "Promise you won't let them."

You nod again, shifting so that you can wrap your arms tighter around me. "I promise. I should have known Nilsen wasn't there just to chat."

I feel so pleased to hear this, so drunk on power. It's dizzying. Ending someone's life, then being in your grateful arms. You could never understand this, but you don't have to. You just have to be here with me now.

"The only man who gets to hurt you," I say, shifting to lay beside you, "...is me."

You nod once more, craning your neck toward me and gazing at my lips. I lean forward, allowing you to just brush them, barely a kiss before I pull away.

"The only man who gets to do anything to you, is me," I whisper. "I will never let you leave."

The way I feel now is nothing but incredible. It goes beyond lust, beyond a need for power. I know that I own you, that every part of you belongs to me, and I know that I can protect you, keep you mine forever.

You push a leg between mine and I put an arm around you, allowing you to kiss me this time. My cock twitches at your eagerness, a spark of pleasure shooting through me with each worshipful kiss you plant on my lips.

I attempt to kiss you back, but I need more leverage, and so I roll you beneath me again, pressing my lips to yours. My hips push against your leg, grinding myself against it as I gasp into your mouth. You taste so good, and I kiss your lips again and again and again.

You have your arms around me, arching up and writhing beneath me as you return each of my kisses. There's need in your gaze, and I regard you with lowered eyelids. I continue grinding myself again you, and soon enough, both of us are panting in need.

I pause to look at you, catching my breath. My cock throbs against your leg, desperate to be inside you, but I know that is not in the cards.

"I wish I could do this," I say breathlessly, deciding to pull away from you. "But we can't."

"Why not, Loki?" you whine, trying to clutch at me and keep me there.

"We talked about this," I say, pulling out of your arms and sitting up. I run my hand through my hair, finally dragging the crown out of it and smoothing it back down.

"Just give me the potion," you plea, pushing up on your elbows.

"It isn't just about that," I remind you, standing to put the crown away. I remember just how blood-stained my black garments are and begin stripping them off.

"Then what is it about?" I hear you ask, but ignore it.

I continue with the outer layer of my clothes, throwing the filthy garments to the floor. I promised you not to make this hard for you. I still believe you can stop loving me if that is what you want, and I will not sabotage it.

Just as I yank down my pants, you suddenly appear in front of me, yanking at your own vambraces as you begin removing them. I go still when flowers spill from beneath them. Specifically, blossoms of red clover.

Slowly, I pick one up, regarding it in the moonlight. "Red clover? Were you hoping for something?"

I look at you, watching you flush in embarrassment. It seems both of us are aware of what they are used for.

"A servant gave it to me," you hastily explain, and I know that it is the truth. Still, the thought of pushing one into your mouth and then—No, such a wish is entirely irrational.

I drop the flower and remove the last of my clothing, quickly becoming aware that you are doing the same. My eyes are drawn to you as you strip off your undergarments, your moonlit body entirely revealed to me.

Blood is slowly pumping into my cock, a dull sense of arousal at the back of my mind. You look at me, stepping over the clothes and hugging me tightly against you, despite all the blood drying on my skin.

I can feel everything. Every soft part of your body pressed against me. Beyond that, your desire, your need. Your love.

I draw in an unsteady breath. My arms come up and force yours down. As soon as I'm free, I turn to my desk and open the drawer I know contains what I am seeking. My bloodstained fingertips graze the glass bottle and I quickly draw it out.

When I see your excited expression, I sigh, but hand it to you anyway. There is nothing I can do to harden my heart against you.

You drink the potion so quickly I am afraid you might choke. Once it's done, you set the bottle down and give me an expectant look. I suppose I've set tonight's ending.

I want to be inside you, but not on the bed. I want to take you standing, hold you in my arms and make you clench and quiver around me.

I approach the window and pull it open, taking a moment to inhale the night air. It may be too cold for you, but then again, so am I.

"Well, then," I say, defeated. Feigning resignation, I motion you over, and you leap with joy.

My hands grip your hips and I push you against the windowsill, pressing myself against you. I care nor for the blood on me, only about touching you.

There's anticipation in your eyes and you quickly take hold of my shoulder. Now that I am truly intending to end up inside you, my cock has hardened fully and is throbbing impatiently.

"Are you ready?" I ask detachedly, leaning in and planting soft kisses along your pulse point.

"I've been for weeks," you reply in a mere whisper, reverence and need contained in your voice.

A growl escapes my throat and my fingers dig into your thighs, hoisting you up onto the sill. What a marvel you are. Being made my slave changed nothing in your desire.

You look behind you at the drop from my palace window, your grip on my shoulders tightening instinctively. Then you return your gaze to me, waiting for me to do something.

I stare back at you, pressing myself against your legs until you part them for me, allowing me to step between them. Your legs hook around me immediately, and I see the desperation, the pleading in your eyes. Disgusting. Filthy little thing. So needy, after all I've done. After all I feel for you.

I won't give you the courtesy of preparing you, but you know that. You're wet and ready for me as I drag my cock through your slick heat.

"This means nothing," I say to you, finally pressing inside you, all the way in one motion.

I feel you shudder against me, your beautifully wet walls clenching down around me. It's so good. Pure bliss, having you surround me.

You press closer and I let my eyes fall shut, wrapping you securely in my arms and dropping my head onto your shoulder. I take a deep breath of the fresh air and then begin thrusting inside of you.

The wet glide fills my mind with bliss, the back and forth of your slick channel dragging over my cock. My breaths come heavily, my hips rocking into you a little faster.

You clench and buck back against me each time, heightening my pleasure. I can hear each puff of breath from your parted lips, feel your fingers clutch me tightly with each pass of my cock.

Gripping your hips tightly, I turn my head and mouth at the skin beneath your collar, grazing it with my teeth. You exhale shakily, rocking desperately against me in pursuit of your pleasure.

My own thrusts get faster and harder as pleasure mounts. I quickly reach between us and drag my fingers over your slickened clit. You shake and spasm around me, gasping as your head drops back and your hips buck frantically. I bite down on your shoulder, quickly rubbing you to completion before thrusting hard inside you and releasing.

We climax together, you clenching and fluttering around me with quiet gasps, while I squeeze my eyes shut and feel all my muscles tense as I release my seed inside you.

Panting, we pull apart, my teeth marks visible on your shoulder in the light of the moons. I stare at you as I begin to catch my breath, seeing the trails of my fingers painted in the vermin lord's blood upon you.

Slowly, my mind calms, my body relaxing in the wake of the release. When you shiver, I pull you off the sill, setting you on your feet.

You don't seem inclined to stop, turning toward my bath chamber. "What about a hot bath? To wash away all the blood?"

It takes me a second to realize what you are asking, and my legs carry me there as soon as I do, activating the supply of hot water.

We wait in silence as the bathtub fills, and I begin to prepare the soaps and washcloths by setting them on the edge. You step into the bathtub, and I shut the water off, pouring soap in before I join you. The water is scalding, but I assume you find it quite pleasant.

I take a breath and adjust myself to the temperatures, picking up a sponge and lathering it up. Then I move closer and gently rub it over your cheeks, removing the crumbling blood rubbed there by my clothes.

You watch me, and I continue on to your neck, washing around your collar and beneath it. Part of me wishes it wasn't there, if just for tonight, while another is glad for the solid reminder that you still love me.

I continue to the rest of your body, scraping the blood away with the roughened sponge. I take care to wash every part of you, a task of devotion as well as meditation. I want you perfectly clean again, unsullied by the actions of the traitor.

When you deem yourself clean enough, you pluck the sponge out of my hand and set it away, picking up a fresh one to lather up. I read your intentions in your gaze, and allow you to drag it over my skin as to return the favor.

While you carefully clean the blood off my own skin, I allow my hands to explore your unsullied body. I graze my fingertips up your arms and down your back. You move closer to me, straddling my legs to better wash me. It gives me the opportunity to explore your body fully, and soon enough, the sponge drops from your fingers and you sling your arms around me instead.

I gaze into your pleasure-filled eyes, gently rubbing over your sweet little cunt until you buck against my hand. Your hair is still contained by pins and decorations, and I wish to release it.

"Turn around," I order gently, and you do so right away, settling between my legs.

I put my arm around your waist to cup your precious center and teasingly drag my fingers over your clit. You mewl desperately, writhing against it, but I only hold you steady and pull the pins from your hair.

You seem to want to take action, because I suddenly feel your hand around my half-hard cock. I give you an appreciative groan, but only continue with what I was doing, freeing your hair and teasing you with my fingers.

Your slippery hand pumps up and down my length, giving me far too much sensation far too fast. I pause to draw your hand away from me, even though my cock throbs in protest.

"Shhh," I soothe you, knowing you are impatient, but wanting you to trust me.

I cup you again, grinding my palm against your clit much more intensely while I continue to unravel your braids and pull the pins out.

You whimper and twitch against me, but I take my time. As I reach the last few pins, I push a finger inside your tight heat and rub it back and forth while still grinding down my palm.

As soon as all your hair has been loosened, I pull my hand away, grip your hips, and drag you down on my cock.

Your tight walls surround me, and I feel at home in an instant. My cock twitches inside you, impatient with need, until you begin riding me slowly, causing the water to rock back and forth.

I let my mouth drop open, dragging in a breath before planting my lips against your neck. My hand slips between your legs, the other palming at your breasts and tweaking your nipples.

My mind is filled with nothing but pleasure, addicting and indulging. I rock my hips up in the rhythm you have set, listening to your gasping moans and sucking at the skin of your neck.

You ride me faster, clenching and squeezing down around me with each slide. It makes me groan softly, my eyes fluttering as I piston up into you. I continue tormenting your nipples, grinding down on your clit and biting at your neck to ground myself. I hold my climax off, but soon my need overtakes me and I buck into you ferociously.

You fall apart under my hands, impaled on my cock, and I thrust into you to get you through it. I am waiting for you to relax, to go limp so I can quickly finish, but you surprise me by sliding off me, turning around, and pushing me onto my back.

I feel the cold tub on my back, and I stare at you in surprise as you slide down on me again. My cock twitches eagerly, the built up climax turning into throbs of unfulfilled arousal.

You stare down at me and I groan, attempting somehow to communicate what I want, but my mind is useless.

You squeeze down around me, your hand on my chest, and then you begin moving again. I feel as though the roles have been reversed, you becoming my master and I your slave. I hear myself make a noise of pleasure, my hands hanging uselessly in the air, for the way you ride me has me utterly witless.

Your movements become determined, your hands tightly gripping my shoulders as you fuck yourself on me. Breaths escape me in irregular patterns, soon becoming audible sounds of someone getting fucked. I am not ashamed of such a dynamic right now, allowing myself to feel the pleasure in its entirety, especially when you begin to pull at my hair.

I feel my balls draw tight and my vision go white, quickly grabbing your hips and bucking up, hammering into you as I find my release.

You climax simultaneously, squeezing me for every last drop. My entire body shudders in ecstasy, my balls pumping you full of my seed.

Panting, my vision returns to me and I open my eyes to look at you. I witness the last moments of your peak, and then you go limp and slump against me, running your hands over my chest as you come down.

I, too, need to catch my breath, holding you against me and listening to our combined battles for air. My cock remains inside you, softening and twitching with the aftershocks. You stroke my skin lovingly, planting kisses on my chest and I do the same to you.

Our breaths even out, and yet we remain in each other's embrace. I play with the ends of your hair absentmindedly, and you worship my chest with affection. I do not notice the water has cooled until you begin to shiver.

I was going to send you out. To make you sleep in the servants' quarters.

My arms remain around you when I pull you off me, when I get out of the tub and carry you soaking wet to my bed. You watch me as I strip away the bloodied sheets, as I bring over towels and blankets. I feel a strange peacefulness while I wrap you in a towel and dry your hair for you. While you pick one up and dry my body unprompted. When I lay you down and cover you in blankets, safely tucking you in before finally joining you.

I take you in my arms and hold you close. Breathe in your scent. Press your body against mine and feel a low hum of arousal. You turn toward me and run your fingers over my back, giving me silent affection.

My breaths become faster once more, and I regard you with shuttered eyes. Slowly, I reach down, sliding my fingers through your still-wet folds. I graze them over the head of my cock and guide it inside you, slipping the half-aroused length into your slick channel.

Your warm breath is on my lips, your fingers touching my hair. I kiss you, hips rolling into you as the comfortable arousal persists.

You gasp into my mouth, but your breaths are fairly steady, your lips and body so perfectly against mine. I rock into you until you hook your leg over mine, stilling my hips until I am merely resting inside you. Looking at you like this, I could almost say that a small part of me never stopped being in love with you.

My cock throbs, but I leave it where it is, watching your eyes droop and your breaths even out. I, too, feel a wave of fatigue run over me. You are around me, as you should be, and all is well.

I kiss you once more, shifting to pull you as closely to me as possible, and then I give in to sleep as well. You sigh happily, already partially dreaming. I get dragged under not long after, and it seems my mind has prepared nightmares for me to rival what has happened this day.


	5. AE: Poisoned Wine + Loki's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate ending of chapter 38, in which the Reader does drink the poisoned wine, requested by PersephoneHemingway  
> \+ The same thing, but from Loki's POV, requested by This_Girl_stans_Marvel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: As expected, this chapter's entire purpose is to be dark and heartbreaking. The whole reason Reader drinks the wine here, is because she is ready to die. And although Loki and Reader both survive this, their unborn child does not. This is also one of the only potential endings where the Reader actually leaves Loki. If you want tears and sorrow, and an ending that may not be happy, but at least somewhat peaceful, go ahead and read this. But if you feel that this isn't for you, or that you might get angry/upset, please don't subject yourself to it <3
> 
> That being said, I loved writing this, and am particularly fond of the Loki POV! I love dark and heartbreaking stuff like this :P

Polishing armor for Loki isn't the worst thing he could have asked you to do, even if it is late at night. And all Eala has to do is change his sheets, meaning you'll be out of here soon enough.

You scrub at the brass plates, fighting away tiredness. It makes you feel a bit better that Loki is also doing work, writing furiously at his desk. At least all three of you are suffering together, even if Loki is the king and has a nice pitcher of wine waiting for him.

You yawn and continue scrubbing, determined to get done. The snap of a quill startles you out of the repetitive motions, and you look up to see Loki curse and fling it against the wall. He seems just about done with whatever he was working on, rifling furiously through his drawers.

You realize your gaze is lingering on him, taking in the sharp angles of his face in the moonlight. When his posture deflates and he finally gives up to pour himself some wine, you manage to pull your attention away and glance over to Eala.

She's standing by his bed, still with the sheets in her hand, and she's looking strangely excited. Your tired mind cannot make sense of this, and so you look back to Loki. He hasn't done anything, really, except pick up the goblet and-

Panic crashes through you like a lightning bolt. Of course! This is what Eala was talking about. Her revenge. There is no other explanation.

"Stop!" you scream, causing both Loki and Eala to flinch. "Don't drink that! It's poisoned!"

Loki stares at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. The longer he just sits there, wine still in hand, the more you panic. You have no other choice but to jump up, rush over, and rip it from his hand. It falls, spilling on the floor where it can't hurt anyone.

Loki's gaze flickers down to the spill, then back up at you. You're breathing heavily, a piece of his armor still in your hand.

"Poisoned?" he finally asks, his voice soft.

"Yes," you breathe, expecting relief.

Instead, Loki's eyes narrow, his lips curling in anger. Startled, you glance over at Eala, who looks equally shocked and angry.

Loki rises from his chair, towering over you.

"Poisoned," he repeats. "And how would _you_ know that, pet, hm? Were you the one who put it there?"

You stumble backwards to evade him, suddenly scared. "N-no, I... I didn't."

He looks menacing, stepping toward you. "Then _who_ , pray tell, did?"

You continue backing up, trying not to look at Eala so you don't give her away. "I don't know..."

"Do you have any proof, then?" he sneers, clearly irritated. "Because I don't take kindly to servants spilling my wine onto the floor."

You know you're in trouble, but surely he'd rather see it spilled than for him to die of poison, right?

"I don't, but better safe than sorry, right?"

That seems to be the wrong answer. Loki turns back toward his desk, picking up the goblet and filling it again.

"Don't-" you try, but he stops you with a raised finger.

"There is a way you _could_ prove your claim," he says. When he looks back at you, his eyes are completely cold. " _Drink_ it."

Your eyes widen, all your movements halting.

"Do you want to be punished?" he threatens. The collar sits heavily around your neck, leaving you no choice but to obey.

"N-No."

"Then _drink_ ," he snaps, pushing the cold metal of the goblet to your lips. "If you ever loved me, you will drink this."

Trembling, you stare up into his eyes. You did love him. You still do. And maybe you still want him to kill you with the sweetest of all poisons.

You nod and wrap your fingers around the goblet. His own hand draws away, grim satisfaction in his eyes. You can smell the wine as you tilt the container back.

Movement flashes in the corner of your eye, and you hear a shriek.

"No!"

Eala is rushing toward you and you have a split second to make a decision. Spinning aside, you tip the goblet back and gulp down the contents. You make it halfway before she collides with you and knocks you to the floor, sending it flying from your hand.

"No!" Eala yells again. "I did it! I poisoned it!"

You hiccup, licking wine from your lips and staring at the rest of it sinking into the carpet.

Eala starts shaking you. "No, no, you shouldn't have drunk it! It was for him! Why did you do that?!"

You really don't care about her right now, or Loki for that matter. You feel strangely giddy, so free all of a sudden. The collar matters nothing now, and neither does your past! You're going out on your own terms.

Loki is yanking Eala off you, allowing you to roll onto your back.

" _What_ poison?" he snaps. "What did you put in there?!"

His eyes are full of emotion, flicking between you and Eala.

"H-hemlock," Eala squeaks, lifting her hands to shield herself from his rage. "I don't know what it does, only that it can kill someone!"

You watch all this with detached amusement, hoping only that hemlock isn't particularly painful. You're fine just lying here and sleeping.

Loki looks somewhat relieved, staring down at you again. There is something in his expression you can't quite place.

"How much did you put in there?" he asks.

"A lot," Eala answers, defeated. "I wanted to be sure it worked."

Loki grabs your wrist, checking your pulse. You smile at him. He leans over you and checks your breathing as well, then sits back.

"Does any part of you feel numb?" he asks you. "Can you feel your toes?"

You simply continue smiling at him, not bothering to answer. Finally free. Finally free.

Seeing that you're not responding, Loki turns back to the distraught Eala.

"I'm taking her to a healer. You stay here."

With that, he heaves you up into his arms and proceeds to carry you from the room. Eala remains on the floor, looking after you with tears in her eyes. You smile at her, too.

As Loki carries you through the hallways, you watch his face, everything in you so perfectly calm. Nothing can hurt you now.

It occurs to you that you should probably say something grandiose. Something meaningful that will always haunt him.

"Loki..." you whisper, smiling up at him.

His eyes flicker down to meet yours.

"No one will ever love you again the way I did."

His face twitches and he looks straight ahead again. You can tell that his jaw is clenched in frustration.

You are dumped down onto a bed, an older woman immediately rushing over.

"She drank wine with hemlock," Loki hisses aggressively. "I'm sure you can handle this."

The woman looks down at you, also checking your vitals, then quickly waves over some other people.

"Of course," she says. "How far has the paralysis spread? Can you feel your feet?"

That question is directed at you, but you don't feel like helping. You just smile at Loki, causing his eyes to flash in anger.

Out of pure curiosity, you try to wiggle your toes, and are astounded to find that you can't. It seems the poison is actually working.

"We'll sedate her," the healer says. "Then we'll flush out the poison and give her artificial respiration until it's out of her system. She should be fine in half a day or so. A full one to be sure."

Loki nods curtly, his fingers curled into the edge of the bed. "I'll be back then."

"Of course, sire."

He turns on his heel and strides from the room, and you are left with the healers. You watch them bring equipment over, and then golden symbols float above your head and you remember nothing more.

***

You wake up feeling like you've just had the longest nap ever, every part of you stiff. You blink up at the white ceiling, still feeling somewhat drowsy, even as memories come back.

You're in a healing station, that much you know. And you're alive, despite seemingly having wanted it otherwise just moments ago. You'd _wanted_ to drink the poison, and you hadn't made any attempt to fight it.

_"If you ever loved me, you will drink this."_

Because that had been the whole point.

You turn your head to the side, seeing no one in the room with you. Do your friends know? You suppose you'll have to go back to them. That temporary lapse of judgement had been your only shot. Now you are thinking rationally again, and you know you can't just leave your friends here.

Shakily, you reach up and touch the collar around your neck. There is only one way out of here. You'll have to-

Before you can finish your thought, the door to the room opens and the elderly healer from before comes in. Relief shows on her face when she sees that you're awake.

"Oh, good," she says, quickly approaching you. "I don't know what I would have done, had you not been awake by now. How do you feel? Can you sit up?"

Normally, you wouldn't much care for sitting up, but her anxious expression has you complying, slowly shifting into a sitting position.

"My name is Eir," she says. "And I'm going to get you out of here before the king returns."

"What?" you ask, startled.

Her expression twists into sorrow. "Look, I- We don't have much time. You need to leave. Now. Do you have any place to stay, outside of the palace?"

You give her a confused look. "I can't leave. This collar...." You reach up and touch it. "It prevents me from leaving. And my friends are here, too. They're also trapped."

Eir's eyes widen in fear. "You... You're sure? How can we- You need to leave as soon as possible. I'll- I'll try to keep him away from you, but I can't make any promises."

You can tell she's struggling with a weighty moral dilemma, but you don't know what this is about.

"It's fine," you say. "I know how to leave. But he has to be present."

Now Eir looks confused. "We _can't_ let him in here. That collar... The things we found... No, it is my duty to protect my patients."

Your fingers trail along the metallic edge of the collar. "The only way to free me and my friends is if I break the spell. And that only happens when I tell him that I hate him. To his face."

Eir's eyebrows raise. "Oh. I... I suppose you'll have to do that, then. But I won't leave you alone with him. And I suppose I'll... I'll just have to keep it from him until you and your friends are somewhere safe."

You give her a curious look. "Keep what from him?"

She shakes her head. "You need to know before you leave, but... This really isn't the best time to give you these news. At the very least, you should eat and drink something first."

"Okay," you say, more eager for the information than the food.

"I'll go get it for you," Eir says, her expression solemn as she turns and leaves the room again.

You fidget with the edge of your blanket as you wait, a sudden sense of dread sinking in.

Eir comes back and hands you a cup of water and plain wafers on a tray. You gulp some of it down and chew on the wafers, looking at her expectantly.

She waits until you've set everything back down, then takes your hand in hers.

"There is no way to soften the blow, so I'm just going to tell you," she speaks, her voice going quiet. "You had a miscarriage. I don't know if you knew, but there was a child growing inside you. As was to be expected, it didn't make it. The poison, the whole procedure was too much for it."

You can't move. Your mouth is dry and your ears are ringing and your entire world is crashing down around you.

Eir looks up at you, her eyes veiled with tears. She squeezes your hand, compassion on her face. "Do you... Do you know who the father was?" she asks, her voice a mere breath, fearful of the answer.

Slowly, you swallow the lump in your throat and nod. You don't have to say anything for her to know the answer, looking down at your hands. They feel so frail all of a sudden.

"You can't tell him," she says, squeezing your hand. "Not until you're gone. Do you understand?"

You nod again, so numb.

"Just call him in here so I can break the spell," is all you manage to say.

"Are you sure?" she asks. "This may not be the right ti-"

"Just do it," you insist, not looking at her.

She draws her hand away and leaves the room again.

You sit with your hands balled into fists in the bed sheets until the king enters your room several long minutes later, followed closely by Eir.

You lift your head and glare at him, seething with rage. He remains several steps away from you, his expression haunted. He looks like he hasn't slept at all, guilt in his eyes. It makes you so much angrier.

You don't say anything, and neither does he. Eir is looking fearfully between the two of you, worried about what is going to happen.

Then, finally, you snap.

"I had a baby in me!" you scream, your voice hoarse and shrill. "You put a baby in me, and now it's dead! It's dead because of you! I hate you! I hate you so fucking much!"

The collar explodes from your neck, pieces raining down on your lap. Loki's eyes are wide, and he just stares at you.

"I hate you more than anything!" you scream so loudly that you're sure everyone in the palace can hear it. "I want to kill you! I want to murder you, you- you-"

A sob wracks through you, cutting you off. You hyperventilate for a moment, seeing Eir's pained expression. She seems wary of Loki, who looks paralyzed.

You take one more deep breath, then scream so loudly your voice gives out completely. "I want you to _die_ , you vile monster!"

Now completely unable to talk, your throat burning, you sit on your bed, tears streaming down your face and your chest heaving.

Loki's expression is heartbroken and he quickly walks over to you, complete despair in his eyes. He reaches for you, and you slap his hand away as hard as you can, your eyes wild.

" _Darling_ ," he says, his voice so quiet and broken you almost don't believe it's his.

You stare at him with nothing but rage, and he looks pleadingly back at you.

"Calm down, please, darling," he begs weakly. "We can fix this. I can- I can do something-"

You reach out and drag your fingernails down his cheek. He flinches, but doesn't move away, letting you scratch his skin open.

"I want to kill you," you hiss, your voice unable to go above a whisper. "Give me a knife."

He looks at you, his eyes brimming with tears. Then he nods, summoning a dagger and handing it to you. You gratefully take it, considering where to stab him.

"I love you," he says, and you swing.

He jerks back, the blade cutting across his nose, but not as deep as you had wanted. You shoot him an angry look, wanting him closer so you can do it again.

Eir rushes up to you, a pleading look on her face. "Please don't," she says. "Please go. Your friends are to be freed, too, right?"

Loki touches the cut, seeing the blood on his fingertips. He has that same guilty, heartbroken expression in his eyes that you hate so much.

"Is that what you want, Loki?" you wheeze. "Or... will you stop me?" Your throat hurts so damn much.

He says nothing, stepping aside to leave a clear path to the door. The answer is clear.

"I do love you," he says. "It was never a lie."

You don't care. You hop off the bed, standing on shaky legs. You turn once more to look at him, standing there beside Eir.

"What... will... you do now?" you manage to get out somewhat audibly. You can't possibly be happy if he's still king, lording over Asgard.

Loki shakes his head, summoning his helmet and kneeling down to place it at your feet. Again, it's enough of an answer for you.

Loki stays in that position even when you march out the door to collect your friends.

***

After several long years, you're mostly happy again. A "mysterious" donation delivered by Helena allowed you and Rika to buy a modest house together, working at a shop in town and living a relatively carefree life. Mat and Lee found employ elsewhere, but they both live close by and often visit.

You've not fallen in love with anyone else, and you don't think you ever will. After a year of anger, a year of numbness, and a year of grief, you've finally reached happiness again. You can acknowledge that Loki wasn't the epitome of evil, and that he probably truly believed in what he was doing. You also believe that he did love you, and that you loved him back. If soulmates are a thing, you are pretty sure you and Loki were each other's, but that doesn't matter anymore. Loki disappeared shortly after you left, and to everyone's joy, Thor returned only a few weeks after.

You had a lot of nightmares after the ordeal, but they've almost gone away by now. It's gotten so rare now that you dream of him, that the times you do stick out.

You're standing in a cave, which has you a little confused. You somehow know that you're dreaming, and you begin to wonder why it's of a place you've never seen in real life. That's when you realize you're not alone.

There's a person tied to a slab of stone, their body weak and their hair long and unruly. You somehow immediately know who it is, slowly approaching him.

His eyes are closed, and there is a strange pattern of scars and raw skin around them. Something drips onto his face, and he writhes, face twisting in pain in his sleep.

You look up and jerk back when you see a big snake coiled over his head. Its maw is open, fangs dripping vicious venom.

Loki suddenly whimpers, and when you turn back to him, his eyes are open and looking right at you. He doesn't say anything, but his gaze is desperate, pleading.

You look back up at the snake, then down at him. It's pretty clear what's going on, even if you don't know who put him there. Maybe he did this to himself.

A drop splashes into his eyes, and he screams in agony, needing a moment before calming down enough to look at you again.

You step right up to the stone, crouching down beside him. You brush some of his hair from his gaunt face, taking in his appearance. He looks like he's aged quite a bit in the short time since you last saw him, his face disfigured from the venom.

Your other hand bumps against something on the floor, and you pick it up to inspect it. It's a dusty wooden bowl.

Your head tilts up toward the snake again. There's another drop forming at its fangs. You quickly hold the bowl up and catch it.

Loki exhales a relieved breath.

You keep staring at the snake, catching more and more drops. Loki becomes a bit more animated, turning toward you in his restraints, his breath evening out.

You look back down at him, keeping the bowl over his face.

Both of you know that this is his punishment, and both of you know that your dream won't last forever. But for now, both of you are fine being exactly where you are.

* * *

It is late. Exhaustion is hanging over me like a heavy blanket, clouding my vision and threatening to drop my head against the desk.

I have letters to compose, but more often than not, my vision blurs and I must blink rapidly to see in the candlelight. Somewhere behind me, you are polishing my armor, and your presence is a strange source of comfort. I can hear the scrubs of your brush, and beside me, the shuffling of sheets as the other servant girl makes my bed. Already I am fantasizing of lying down in it once all this is done.

My quill scrapes over the parchment, drawing lines of ink into words almost without input from me. Words have always come easy to me, and although this is tedious work, I manage to bring line after line to paper.

_...with urgency, request the shipment be delivered this very month. There can be no further delay, without risking a fall in production. It must be understood that this resource is irreplaceable and necessary-_

My fingers are cramping around the quill, and as my fatigue continues to fuel my frustration, I press too hard and the nib snaps off in a splatter of ink. I stare at it for a moment, the broken pen and the jarring spot of ink on the otherwise neat letter. This means I will have to start the entire thing again.

Cursing, I throw the useless quill against the wall, causing even more ink to splatter. Anger races through my limbs, my already short temper shortened even further at this late hour.

I draw in a deep breath in an attempt to compose myself, but manage only so much. A slave to my duties, I reach for my drawers and begin searching through them for a replacement. My fingers lift stacks of papers, rifle through ink wells and sealing stamps, but there are no spare quills left.

Briefly, I consider unleashing my anger on whatever servant caused this oversight, but then I remember that I am not alone. Sighing, I slump back in my chair and run my hands over my face in an attempt to calm myself. I realize you have stopped scrubbing at my armor, most likely watching me, and find myself sobered somewhat. I lower my hands again and my gaze drifts to the wine I had requested. Well, now is as good a time as any to indulge.

Calmer now, I reach for the pitcher, pouring the deep red drink into the goblet. I can already taste the sweetness on my tongue, the slight bite of the alcohol. It will be a small pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless.

Gingerly, I lift the goblet, letting the aroma fill my lungs.

"Stop!" you suddenly scream, jolting me painfully. "Don't drink that! It's poisoned!"

My heart rate has spiked and I stare at you with disbelief. My mouth still waters for the taste of the wine, my mind foggy with fatigue. If this is your idea of a joke, I will be sure to punish you harshly.

You jump up in what seems to be a panic driven move, dashing forward and forcefully yanking the goblet from my grasp. I watch it drop to the ground and spill onto my carpet, the delicious drink seeping away between the fibers.

There is anger rushing inside me, filling my mind with noise.

"Poisoned?" I ask slowly, softly.

"Yes," you exhale, your chest heaving and your face showing relief. I do not feel the same. 

Anger twists my face, and I jump to my feet to stand over you.

" _Poisoned_ ," I spit. "And how would _you_ know that, pet, hm? Were you the one who _put_ it there?"

Your eyes widen frightfully and you stagger backwards, away from me.

"N-no, I... I didn't," you fumble, but I don't believe you.

I take a step toward you, my eyes narrowed threateningly.

"Then _who_ , pray tell, did?" I ask slowly, menacingly.

You stare up into my eyes even as you continue to back away.

"I don't know," you lie, causing my lips to curl into a sneer.

"Do you have any proof, then?" I hiss. "Because I don't take kindly to servants spilling my wine onto the floor."

Leave it to you to provide an outlet for my anger once again. It is unfortunate, really, but I do not care.

"I don't, but better safe than sorry, right?" you say, sounding so sure of yourself.

New anger flashes up inside me, and I turn away from you. I know precisely what I will do to you now.

I pick the goblet up with a wave of my hand, filling it with wine once more.

"Don't-" you say, but I silence you with a single finger raised in your direction.

"There is a way you could prove your claim," I say, turning back to look at you. " _Drink_ it."

I utter the words slowly, precisely, and your eyes go wide. It is an order, the collar resting around your neck responding to it. You have no choice.

"Do you want to be punished?" I warn, holding out the goblet. Whether or not there is actual poison in the wine, I want to see your conviction. Your _confidence_ that this is actually true.

"N-No," you answer.

"Then drink," I snap, shoving it against your lips so swiftly the wine almost sloshes over the brim. "If you _ever_ loved me, you will drink this."

If you ever loved me, you will die for me.

You begin to tremble, your eyes wide and shining wetly. It seems that you truly believe there to be poison in the wine, no matter how unlikely this is. It makes me even more suspicious about your involvement in this.

Finally, you sag in defeat, your head nodding and your fingers wrapping around the cup. I let it go and you hold it aloft, giving me certainty in your obedience. Slowly, you tilt it back, letting the wine flow against your lips.

"No!" someone shrieks, the other servant girl suddenly running toward you in a panic.

I'm mildly surprised, stepping out of her path. I'd almost forgotten her presence, but I won't stop her now if she chooses to interfere.

To my further surprise, you quickly evade her, gulping down a good amount of the wine before she manages to knock you to the floor, sending the drink spilling once again.

"No!" the girls shrieks, making my ears ring. "I did it! I poisoned it!"

You are sprawled on my carpet, red wine dripping from your lips and seeping into the carpet. A strange lightheadedness begins to fill me, and I briefly wonder if I've severely misjudged the situation.

"No, no, you shouldn't have drunk it!" the servant girl sobs, shaking you aggressively. "It was for him! Why did you do that?!"

My head spins and my chest cramps so intensely, I briefly wonder if I've ingested the poison myself. Still, I have all of my senses, and my mind spurs me to action.

I'm on my knees in a split second, roughly shoving the servant girl off you, laying my hands on you and reaching out with my seidr.

" _What_ poison?" I snarl. "What did you put in there?!"

Adrenaline is rushing through my veins, fear and anger and guilt. I look between you and the servant girl, compelling her to answer.

"H-hemlock," she squeaks, cowering under my rage. "I don't know what it does, only that it can kill someone!"

It takes me a moment to get hold of myself, to take in the information rationally. Hemlock. A very slow acting toxin, deadly but treatable.

I allow myself to relax, taking a deep breath to truly asses your state. You are fully conscious and still breathing, looking up at me with a smile on your lips. Almost as though you were... happy at the thought of death.

Emotions threaten to overwhelm me, but I push them down the same way I have for centuries.

"How much did you put in there?" I ask the servant girl, calmer now.

"A lot," she answers in a small voice. "I wanted to be sure it worked."

I take your wrist, feeling the thrum of your pulse. It is steady. I check your breathing, leaning down and making sure you are not yet suffocating. You only smile wider, looking all too happy at my torment.

"Does any part of you feel numb?" I ask urgently. "Can you feel your toes?"

I truly expect your cooperation, and am caught off guard when you deliberately say nothing. It is like I've been doused in cold water. You do want to die, and it is because of me.

"I'm taking her to a healer," I announce to the servant girl. "You stay here."

I know I will kill her for this, but I can't be bothered now. I take your limp body in my arms and lift you up, getting to my feet with some effort. I am forced to support your entire weight since you still refuse to cooperate, but I will not let it stop me.

As I carry you through the dark hallways of the palace, I feel a paralyzing numbness spread through me. This is it. The mistake that will take everything from me.

"Loki..." I hear you whisper, and it is all I can do not to let the tears gather in my eyes.

I look down at you, and you smile coldly, triumphantly. I can see in your eyes just how much you wish to hurt me.

"No one will ever love you again the way I did."

A dagger twists so deep in my heart I know I will never heal. I look straight ahead, willing the tears to remain out of my eyes. My jaw is clenched, my breathing labored, but it is the best I can do. In my mind's eye, I am slumped on the floor, bashing my skull into the wall until the pain stops.

I imagine your arms around me as I drop you onto a bed in the healing station. Your bright laughter as I explain the situation to Eir. A fondness in your gaze as she begins the process of sedation. The sound of your voice saying that you still love me as I leave the room.

***

Wind whips around me, slashing through my hair and the tails of my coat. The night air is cold, frigid and biting. If I were someone like Thor, I'd summon lightning to strike down upon me. If I were someone like Thor, you would still be happily in my arms.

I stare up at the stars and imagine their endlessness beneath me. My gaze moves to the bifrost, stretching out in the distance. If the void swallows me again, will someone catch me?

Pain clutches at my heart, but after all I have suffered, it hardly matters. I was doomed from the start.

Tears run down my cheeks, burning coldly in the wind. My hands grip the freezing golden balustrade, slowly turning numb just as the rest of me. Even now, I refuse to drop my disguise. The second skin I wear to hide the monster beneath. In the end, what does it matter what I look like? I am the greatest evil the nine realms have ever known.

I promised you so many things. In my mind, I promised you love and fidelity. Joy and caring and kindness. I promised you a life with me, a life in which I make you smile every moment and protect you from all the realm's evil.

With my tongue, I only spoke wicked things, lies and cruelty. I promised I would kill you, hurt you, destroy you. I told you that my love was a lie, that you deserve no happiness. I told you I would kill you with the sweetest poison.

What would mother say?

My head tips back as I stare at the stars and a lump forms in my throat, choking me.

Frigga is not my mother. She loved Thor. I was a monster, a monster she tried to care for, unable to be changed. A monster cannot become someone better.

I stare at my hand, watch the blue seep through the false skin. My knees buckle, and I fall into a crouch. I will the cold away, and the second skin covers me once more. It takes a few breaths before I have control of myself again.

Lanterns shine below me, illuminating the homes of the people I failed. It would be so easy to step up onto the ledge and join them.

My mind returns to the sight of you, lying in the bed of the healing station and looking as though this was all you ever wanted.

I want nothing more than to beg, to plea and cry and tell you I'm sorry. To tell you I love you, to let you know that it is the truth. But the noose is pulling around my neck, and the only options I have are to fall, or to pull my head out.

Slowly, I stand, looking over the balcony once more. If I had even a shred of honor, I would take the step. Instead, I turn around and head back into the palace, wandering the torch-lit halls.

The walls around me are sand, the ground beneath my feet nothing but mist. There is not a single person in all of Asgard I could call my friend. I killed the child that ran through these corridors with laughter. He foolishly believed he had someone to love him, and I killed them, too.

I know what I must do, and it is easy. My heart is shutting off, my emotions drowning at my own hands. I will face you, and it will be as though I have never cared at all.

It is a weakness. A weakness I will get rid of forever. Too much have I let it control me, give me false hope that things would not be as cruel as they are.

I take a seat on my throne, and allow myself to feel nothing. I took this throne from Odin, from all of Asgard. I killed those who stood against me, stuck my dagger in their backs. The snake in the cradle, raised as their own child.

The hours pass, and with the light of the sun, I resume my duties. I no longer feel hunger, or tiredness, or grief. All I feel is a hollow space where my heart used to be. My body weakens, but still I carry on, until finally a healer comes to take me to you.

I steel myself before I step inside, because I know what will happen next.

When I lay my eyes upon you again, all breath is knocked out from me, all composure gone as if it were only ever an illusion.

You sit there, fists balled and utter hatred in your eyes, and I can feel my heart break. Blood rushes in my ears as I take in your disheveled appearance, the utter pain in your expression.

The longer I gaze at you, the more furious you become, but there is nothing I can do. You don't know how truly, irreversibly sorry I am.

Something seems to snap inside you.

"I had a baby in me!" you scream, your voice so loud and so full of pain I feel it in my very bones. "You put a baby in me, and now it's dead! It's dead because of you! I hate you! I hate you so fucking much!"

I can only watch in horror as the collar shatters, shatter under circumstances I never expected, never _wanted_ -

"I hate you more than anything!" your voice tears through me. "I want to kill you! I want to murder you, you- you-"

You are cut off by a sob, several of them shaking your suddenly frail body as you attempt to catch your breath. All I can do is stare at you, none of my limbs responding. I feel nausea well up inside me, but there is nothing in my stomach to retch up.

"I want you to die, you vile monster!" you scream, and I hear your voice break painfully. You are crying, shaking, looking so utterly lost I am freed from my paralysis.

I fight down my nausea and stride to your bedside, the pain in your gaze tearing me to shred. I reach out toward you, wanting nothing more in the realms than to touch you, but you slap my hand away in a stroke of cruelty.

"Darling," I whisper, my voice that of a broken man's.

You are seething with anger, and it does not relent.

"Calm down, please, darling," I beg, pleading with all I have. Pleading to the _Norns_ to reverse time and take _me_ instead. To _kill_ the abandoned child on Jotunheim and leave this one instead. "We can fix this. I can- I can do something-"

You swipe out and ferociously rake your fingernails down my cheek. I flinch at the pain, but I know that I deserve everything you can possibly give me.

"I want to kill you," you hiss, your broken voice rasping in your anger. "Give me a knife."

Tears fill my eyes, my throat closing up and my every limb turning to lead. There is nothing but hatred in your eyes, nothing but the want for murder.

Swallowing, I nod and draw upon my seidr to pull a knife from my dimensional pocket. I hand it to you without a word, watching you fearfully.

You eye me, your hate-filled gaze sweeping over my face. I am weak, and I say the words I swore never to say again, wanting them to be my last.

"I love you," I breathe, and you lash out.

Reflexes kick in, making me jump back, but the blade cuts across my nose.

Eir runs up to you, seemingly trying to stop you. For whatever reason, she is still loyal to her king.

"Please don't," she urges you. "Please go. Your friends are to be freed, too, right?"

I gingerly touch the stinging cut across the bridge of my nose, feeling the wet blood drip out of it. I deserve much worse.

"Is that what you want, Loki?" you suddenly wheeze. "Or will you stop me?"

I gaze at you, feeling calm in my decision. My plan has not changed, and although it will tear me apart to let you go, it is what I must do. Silently, I step aside, no longer an obstacle in your path.

"I do love you," I confess quietly. "It was never a lie."

It is the one thing I want you to know, even though I know it matters nothing to you.

You ignore me, sliding off the bed and taking a moment to steady yourself. I cannot help but stare at you, knowing it's the last time I will ever see you.

"What... will... you do now?" you rasp, turning to look at me seemingly against your own desire.

I know what your concern is, and I shake my head. My helmet appears in my hands with little thought, and with one last look at you, I kneel down and place it at your feet.

My gaze remains on the floor even while your feet carry you away from me forever. I wait until I can no longer hear your steps and then release the bonds on the collars of your friends.

***

Shortly after you and your friends have left the palace, I set the rest of my plan into motion. I leave instructions with my ministers and councilors to continue their responsibilities over Asgard until a new king is found.

In my chambers, I move objects dear to me into my dimensional storage, then bring out a quill and parchment. In the vaguest terms, I describe to Helena what has transpired, and what I wish her to do. I know she will have lost all respect for me, but she will fulfill her debt nonetheless. All I ask is that she makes sure you are taken care of.

I take the letter and a large sum from the treasury, handing them off to a royal courier to be delivered to her swiftly. Once this is done, all that is left to do is settle my own fate. I take Gungnir and head down to the vaults.

There is a chance Thor is still alive. If he is, he will be able to retrieve Mjolnir as soon as I relinquish the power of the Allfather. As much as I've wished him dead over the decades, a part of me hopes he is able to return. He will make Asgard prosper in ways I never could.

I unlock the doors of the vault with the spear, stepping inside. In here, I first discovered the truth of my nature. Now, I will finally put an end to this chapter of my life.

I do not need to look to know where I am going. Her power calls to me, just as it did in a city on another realm. I was born to wield the casket, but I chose her instead, and she chose me.

My eyes land on the pulsing blue cube of unfathomable power. Power which rears up and then yields like an affectionate pet.

My fingers touch the tesseract's surface, and at the same time, release their grip on Gungnir. The power of the Allfather of Asgard is no longer mine. Instead, I have what was always meant to be my fate.

Her power races through me, melting with my own, eager to fulfill her purpose. She knows what I plan, what I am destined to do. Death is too good for me. This is what I deserve.

I take a breath and close my eyes. Perhaps one last time, I will call upon her.

_Mother_ , I think. _I am the worst the nine realms have ever seen. I am the false son, the traitor to all the æsir and vanir. I am the bringer of Ragnarok, the knot in the fabric of fate. I will destroy all the nine worlds, and I will die with a weapon in my hand as any warrior would. I can only hope, mother, that you have saved me a seat in Valhalla._

With a final breath of home, I let her consume me.

Blue flashes before my eyes, and I am pulled through space, to a destination unknown and yet so singular I have no trouble imagining what awaits me.

My feet touch ground, and I stumble across the floor of a foreign ship. Laughter rumbles around me, a sound that has my muscles quiver and barely hold my weight.

Slowly, I lift my head, taking in the face of my punishment. He grins down at me from his throne, not a hint of surprise on his face.

"There you are, trickster. I knew you would come to me, sooner or later. And you've brought the tesseract. Good."

His soldiers grab me, taking the cube from my hand and removing my only means of escape.

"I've been patiently waiting for your return," the titan says, as he receives her. "And now, I have an eternity to torment you."

His grin is the last thing I see as I am dragged away. For the first time in my life, I have stopped running from my fate and am facing it head on. It may be millennia before I am free again, before I know anything but pain and utter despair, but when that day comes, I know she will recognize her true master. No matter how powerful the titan is, there is no one in the universe who can match my wit, my trickery, and my silver tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help myself


	6. Smut: Lady Loki/Loki/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A threesome between Lady Loki, Loki, and you, requested by AliaraShan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a little plot at the beginning, but it's not necessary to read, so you can skip to the smut by scrolling down to the line. :P
> 
> Slight warning: The plot contains some potentially sensitive topics, such as exploration of Loki's genderfluidity, allusions to gender dysphoria, Norse warrior culture, misogyny, bigotry, and accidental misgendering by a no-name character. I know these topics can be rather unbearable for some, so please skip if you are worried! Loki flytes the shit out of the old men, though, rest assured :P (Inspired by the Lokasenna, because that poem is just great) 
> 
> The smut is the main thing here though, and it's both fluffy and just a little kinky ;)

Watching your husband rule Asgard is an enjoyable pastime for you. When you have nothing else to do, you sometimes find him in the throne room, giving audiences or discussing things with his advisors. He always lights up when he sees you, smiling and giving you a kiss in greeting, and then returns to the highly strategic discussion he was having.

You love watching his mind work, his brow furrow and his tongue swipe over his lips when he thinks. How the words flow easily from his mouth, his skills in strategy and diplomacy unrivaled. You'll sit in your chair and watch him for extended periods of time, just happy to be in his company.

The best part is, that he is never bothered by your presence. Whether he is discussing boring things like trade and the state of the economy, or actual state secrets and fragile inter-realm relations, he doesn't let anyone question your presence in the room. On occasion, you'll even weigh in or ask a question, and even though the councilmen get annoyed, Loki will take the time to respond to you. You're both happy you get to spend time with each other, even when he's working all day.

During war councils, however, you've noticed your presence is especially unwelcome. By anyone aside from Loki and Thor, that is. The councilmen and generals have gone so far as to question aloud why "the princess is present," and "if his majesty isn't concerned his wife will become upset at the topics."

The first time it happened, Loki had only snorted derisively, and Thor had given you an apologetic look. Afterwards, you'd questioned Loki if these warlords had never met a female warrior like Brenna, Valkyrie, or some of Thor's friends, and he'd told you they'd already been like this since he was young.

Since then, you've started to notice just how many of the older ministers seem to overlook you when you are present, or even hush their voices deliberately when they say something they don't believe you should hear. You've not said anything about it, since you don't think it's worth the trouble, but it still annoys you.

One day, when you enter the throne room before a war council, you find Loki in her female form, and it shocks you for a moment. She's sitting boldly on the throne, guards at their stations around her, and she doesn't seem concerned in the slightest.

"Hey, Loki," you greet with a smile once you've overcome your initial shock, and climb the steps of the dais.

She smiles back at you, looking quite imposing with her helmet on her head and her fingers wrapped around Gungnir.

"Have you decided to show everyone?" you ask, and you must sound a little nervous, because she chuckles at you.

"Darling, do not worry yourself," she waves it off, extending her hand toward you. You approach her, letting her pull you onto her lap. She tilts her head toward you and you wrap your arms around her neck and kiss her.

She makes a pleased sound, smiling easily. When you glance over at her other hand, however, you see it's wrapped rather _tightly_ around Gungnir.

"Is it one of those days?" you ask, trying to understand.

She makes an affirmative sound, caressing your waist with her free hand.

"It's alright. It was bound to happen eventually."

You remember how she described the times when her male body feels very wrong, and she has to change shape to be comfortable. She said it is rare that it gets so extreme, and that usually she feels comfortable with either side of the spectrum. Even when he is in his male form, most of the time, she'd be just as comfortable in her female one. Sometimes, however, she has a very clear affinity with only one side, and then the other will trigger great feelings of discomfort.

The longer you've now been married to her, the better you've gotten at picking up subtle clues in her behavior and body language. Loki's default is very clearly his male body, and one time, you accidentally used female pronouns for her in that shape. Fridi hadn't batted an eye, and called her mommy immediately, even though she looked... well, male. You'd immediately apologized, but Loki hadn't actually minded. She informed you that she was comfortable with all pronouns at the moment, merely choosing to remain in the male form because there was no need to change it. Whenever Loki is acting hyper-masculine, of course, you only use male pronouns for him, and in her female form, only female ones. You can sometimes even tell when you can expect a wife rather than a husband for a while, even before any shapeshifting happens. It's never coincided with a war council meeting, until now.

"Will they even recognize you?" you wonder, staring at the entryway and thinking about when the councilmen are due to arrive. A table has already been moved into the room for the meeting to take place at.

Loki snorts derisively. "Pet, I find the golden horns upon my head hard to misinterpret. They know jotnar can change their shape. At worst, they will believe I am playing a trick on them. Or perhaps that is the best possible outcome to this."

You put your hand on her chest comfortingly. "Hey, don't think like that. If they can't accept you, you can execute them for treason."

That gets a dry laugh out of Loki, and you smile in success.

The doors are pushed open, and the group of old councilors and Einherji generals strides in, accompanied by Thor. All of them, without fail, stop in their tracks and gawk up at you and Loki on the throne.

Thor recovers the quickest, striding as casually as he can over to the table and taking his seat, placing Mjolnir beside him. The other men continue staring, even as they slowly filter into the room. Some look confused, some amused, and some rather annoyed.

Loki says nothing until they have all awkwardly taken their seats and placed their documents on the table. You slip off her lap so she can stand and address the group.

"Thank you all for attending," she says coolly and strides down the steps. A few of the men shuffle their papers around awkwardly, averting their gazes, while others blatantly seize her up.

She's wearing the exact same armor she usually does, meaning there's hardly any skin showing, but you still feel a surge of jealousy at their stares. You quickly follow after her, taking your seat at her right and glaring at the councilors. One of them smirks at you.

"As we last discussed, Jotunheim has rejected our attempts at diplomacy," Loki begins, letting her own documents appear before her in a green shimmer as she lays Gungnir across her lap. "We have several options before us, some of which-"

"Ah, excuse me, my lady," one of the generals suddenly interrupts. Everyone goes still, looking at him. He laughs lightly, as if what he is about to say is very amusing. "When- Yes, when can we expect his majesty to join us?"

A few of the other men snicker and you go stiff in your seat. Thor, across from you, looks equally uncomfortable, his gaze flitting between Loki and the surface of the table. Meanwhile, Loki's gaze darkens so quickly you shiver.

"Who do you address, general?" she asks, her voice frigid. "There is no mere lady present within this hall."

The general arches an eyebrow, looking pointedly between you and her. Several councilors mirror his smirk.

Loki sighs loudly and leans back in her seat, feigning indifference. "Thor, remind the general how to address royalty."

Thor still looks very uncomfortable, but he tries his best.

"Good sir, surely you have not forgotten the proper etiquette before a princess and a... a queen," he says, sounding like he's quite uncertain as well.

"Oh, I mean no offense to her highness," the general says, giving you a good-natured smile.

Silence stretches through the hall and your eyes widen at what he just implied.

Loki's chair abruptly slides backwards as she stands, Gungnir back in her hand.

"Is there some sort of... _problem_ ," she spits, "or can we begin?"

A few of the men exchange glances, while the general who spoke feigns ignorance.

"My king," someone else eventually speaks up, looking directly at Loki. "If it's all the same to you, we'd prefer to remain serious about this. Could you drop the illusion and let us resume as usual?"

The breath is stolen from your mouth out of sheer shock. You blink, wondering briefly if this is a bizarre dream.

"And what, pray tell, is wrong with looking like this for once?" Loki hisses, pure venom in her voice. Even if she'd never show her pain, you can feel it in your own heart quite clearly.

You rise from your own chair before you can even come up with a plan. Loki's hand immediately lands on your shoulder, stopping you. You sit back down at a look from her, but inside, you are boiling with anger.

The man who spoke looks just a tad uncomfortable, but that doesn't stop him from doubling down.

"Sire, surely you know that womenfolk have no mind for battle," he says as if it should be obvious. "Whatever reason you may have for—" He gestures vaguely, "—looking like this, surely you can put it aside for the sake of this meeting. It wouldn't do well for any of us to continue this way."

It's getting really hard not to say anything, but you have to trust that Loki will handle it much better than any outburst of yours.

"Ah, I see," Loki says, smiling cruelly. "You are all blind to the truth."

She gestures around the table, then begins walking around it toward the man. Thor is watching his sister with unease, while the councilor tries his best to remain impassive.

"You simply cannot _stand_ the idea..." She grabs his jaw with her free hand, squeezing it painfully. "...of letting a woman rule above you. A woman far more _capable_ , and cunning than you."

Her stare is deadly, but the councilor manages not to be cowed, even with her grip on him.

"Sire-" he says. Faster than anyone can blink, Loki has one of his hands pinned to the table with a dagger going through it. The man's eyes widen as the pain registers, and he releases a choked-off whimper.

Before he can try to draw the dagger out, Loki calmly places her hand on the hilt.

"Who rules Asgard?" she asks.

The man's gaze is now showing a healthy amount of fear as he looks up at her. The men around him look extremely uneasy watching this.

"I- uh, you d-do, s-sire."

In a flash of movement, the dagger is yanked from his hand and sticking about a finger's breadth in his throat, right below his jaw.

The councilor flinches violently, blood seeping from his hand now. His chin is tilted as far back as it can go, and he trembles with the effort of not impaling himself further.

"You have one more chance, councilor," Loki warns mercilessly, and you know she's serious. She'll actually kill the guy. You can't bring yourself to try and stop her.

"Loki, stop!" Thor's voice cuts through the room. He has a pained look on his face, standing up, too, now.

"Please, Loki," he tries to reason as soon as she turns to stare darkly at him from over her shoulder. "This is not the time..."

Loki bares her teeth, swiftly turning back to her current victim.

"Please," the man whimpers, having trouble speaking with the knife lodged in his chin. "Your- your majesty!"

That seems to be enough, and Loki draws her hand back. The man gasps, clutching at his chin with his uninjured hand. The other one is cradled, bleeding to his chest.

Loki turns to face the rest of the table. "Does anyone else wish to speak about this?" she challenges angrily.

To your surprise, the general from earlier stands up.

"I've had enough of this," he sneers. "First, you force me to accept a _jotunn_ on Asgard's throne, and now you want to be a _woman_ , too. Thor, true son of Odin, is the rightful heir. I do not care that he sees you as his kin, you should not be here."

The room is dead silent. The general immediately turns to the other men, trying to get support.

"Does anyone else agree? The Allfather has always, and will always be æsir, a son of our former king. Thor is the perfect example of this. Not you, whatever _you_ are." He sneers at Loki, who looks seconds away from murder. " _Argr jotunn_."

There is a _swish_ and a _clank_ , and the general collapses to the ground. You look to Loki, but she has not moved.

Thor is standing up with Mjolnir in his hand, absolutely fury on his face.

"Loki is my sister," he bellows, causing everyone else to jump up from their seats and back away in a hurry. "I do not care what she looks like, or who she likes, or where she was born, she is your ruler just as much as I!"

You realize you've also gotten to your feet, dizzy with what just happened. The general has not gotten up yet, and everyone else is cowering from Thor's anger. Loki, however, heaves a big sigh and glances at her brother.

"That's enough, Thor," she says in annoyance. "I can defend my own honor."

He looks a bit sheepish, lowering Mjolnir.

With a haughty jut of her chin, she turns to the frightened ministers, minus the unconscious general. At least, you think he's just unconscious...

"You are right," she says spitefully. "All of you. I am indeed everything you have ever insulted me with, whether behind my back or inside your minds."

A few of the ministers exchange glances before looking back at her. They still look less threatened by her than by Thor, which is just another example of their low intelligence.

She strides forward, and to your delight, manages to physically intimidate every single one of them just by getting close.

"I am not just a man sometimes," she says, steadying her voice more and more. "And I am not just a woman sometimes. I am both."

She walks past each of them, making sure they all feel spoken to.

"I am not just æsir, nor am I just jotunn. I am both."

She stops briefly. Then she sighs and continues her pacing.

"And yes, I do not only favor women. I favor men just as much. I am a shapechanger. A two-faced serpent. A deceiver, able to change to fit my circumstances. I have more faces than any of you can imagine."

She stops walking now, staying where she is and regarding the ministers, all of which look extremely uncomfortable.

"Call me cowardly all you wish. Call me womanly. Call me lover of men. I do not care."

She takes a step closer, looking each one in the eyes.

"For the longest time, I did. But there is no reason to, is there? There is nothing you can do. Nothing this changes. I have a wife and a child. A brother. A throne. I have all of _Asgard_. And what have you?"

She sneers as she looks at the injured councilor, still bleeding from where she stabbed him. "A fear of women stronger than you, for even your mother couldn't love you."

Before he can react, her gaze moves to the next man. "And an irrational hatred for your sweet son. I'll let you guess which form I was in when I made him scream my name. I hear he's doing quite well now in Vanaheim, away from your influence."

The minister begins to splutter in protest, but Loki moves on to the next one.

"Mm, how _is_ your backside, after all the lashings you have received from the kind women in the town brothel? Is this why this shape makes you uneasy? Perhaps I'll keep you around if you promise to be a good boy."

You feel just a tad jealous, but mostly _awe_ as she flytes each and every one of them.

"And you, are you not the one who was rejected in his youth by my own dear _mother_? She told me once, but she could not even remember your name."

She chucked lightly while the councilor turns red.

"Ah, and finally, we have you."

The last man cringes preemptively.

"You pretend to be a seasoned warrior when you have feigned sickness during battles you were supposed to partake in. I may wield women's magic, but I have slain far more men than you. How does it feel to be _weaker_ than a jotunn _runt_? Than a strong and powerful _woman_?"

Silence stretches through the hall as the ministers frantically contemplate whether they have any way of coming back from this. You feel like now is your time to say something.

"A-also," you stammer, pushing your chair back and stepping up beside Loki. "She is way better in bed than any of you could ever hope to be!"

You immediately feel stupid as soon as the words leave your mouth, but you stand by them, flushing slightly. Loki turns and smirks at you in amusement while the ministers look slightly dazzled.

"You're all relieves of your duties," Loki abruptly concludes and turns away from them, heading back to the table.

You turn to follow her, just catching the protest on the men's faces.

"You cannot do this, sister," Thor sighs. "They are needed for the council-"

"Well, Thor, I just did," she dismisses him, turning to you and cupping your cheek.

"You are all fools," one of the councilmen says disdainfully, angrily heading towards the exit. The others begin to follow him, all except for the unconscious general and the one Loki told she might keep around.

She doesn't look at them, gazing carefully into your eyes as if to assess whether or not you are alright. You look back at her, trying to convey your sympathy through your eyes. She leans down and kisses you swiftly, not caring about the audience. You sigh happily, wrapping your arms around her.

Thor awkwardly clears his throat, and you pull away, slightly out of breath. Loki turns her head to look at him, a confident expression on her face.

"Thank you for helping defend me, Thor," she says mockingly. "But even in this form, I am more than capable of doing it myself."

Thor sheepishly looks off to the side. "I can see that. You have taken these men's pride rather mercilessly. I hope you are aware they will likely turn against us now."

Loki grins remorselessly. "Of course. And you'll continue to defend your little sister in front of them, won't you?"

Thor's shoulders slump and he finally meets Loki's eyes. "I wish you were not so manipulative."

Loki only chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist and looking around at the general on the floor, and the one minister who remained behind. The man flusters under her gaze, looking like he's very uncertain with his decision.

"I, uh..." He fumbles with his words, but seems determined to say something. "Your majesty, I recognize you as my queen and regent. I do not understand why you are a... a changer, but I feel that you are still my ruler even then. Please, may I maintain my position?"

He bows humbly, staring at the floor. Loki considers him, and you curiously look between him and her. You have the feeling the minister finds her attractive, and you aren't sure if you're happy about that.

"Will you respect me equally in any form?" she questions.

The man nods, still keeping his gaze averted. "Yes, my queen. I do not mind it, even if you are a man sometimes, too."

Loki's eyebrows arch. Then an arrogant smile forms on her lips.

"You truly want to be my good boy, don't you?" she purrs, and the man stiffens.

"Loki!" you scold, smacking her arm.

She only laughs. "Alright, then. You may continue to serve. Now go. Find me more capable people to hold war council."

The man nods quickly, bowing again. "Yes, my queen."

When he leaves the hall, he walks rather stiffly.

As soon as he's gone, you turn to glare at Loki. Thor just shakes his head, finally focusing on the man that got hit by Mjolnir.

"Don't you dare toy with him," you warn firmly.

Loki smirks at you. "Is my pet jealous? Don't worry, darling, he won't have my affection."

You narrow your eyes. "Don't _punish_ him either! I mean it!"

Smiling tiredly, she reaches up and removes her helmet, setting it on the table and smoothing down her hair.

"So you do not wish me to tease him, even just a little?" she asks.

"No!" you confirm immediately. "No teasing!"

She laughs lightly, shaking her head so her hair falls over her shoulders. "Alright, I shall treat him coldly, then. ...Though have the feeling he will enjoy that, too."

You scowl at her until she leans down and nips at your lips. Still, you don't let it distract you.

"You don't realize how attractive you are, do you?" you question, pulling away from her teeth.

"Am I really?" she coos, eyes sparking with desire as she pursues your lips.

"Yes, so don't let anyone flirt with you! It's hard enough when you're in your default shape."

She hums, pleased, and kisses your pout away properly.

"Now that the meeting has been cancelled, I suppose I can retire from my duties early," she purrs against your lips.

You sigh happily, feeling any ill-will disappear. "Yes, please."

"Don't worry about me," Thor speaks up from where he has dragged the unconscious general away from the table. "I will bring him to the healers."

You pull apart, guiltily looking at the unconscious man. Well, _you_ look guilty, Loki looks pleased.

"Make sure he knows not to return when he wakes," she says.

"I was thinking of sending him to Alfheim, since he does not wish you as his ruler," Thor suggests, proceeding to grab the man under the arms and drag him across the floor.

"Very well," Loki agrees. "See how he fares with the elves."

"You two will uproot all of Asgard eventually," you remark. "I truly married chaos incarnate, didn't I?"

Thor only shoots you a tired smile, while Loki looks rather pleased with herself.

* * *

"That was exhausting," you note, sprawling out on the bed. Loki and you have just sent Fridi to bed in his room down the hall, and finally have the night to yourselves.

She strips herself of her armor by hand, still looking rather energized.

"Indeed," she agrees nonetheless. "I am quite happy with how it went, aside from a few complications."

"I'm glad you stabbed that one guy," you mumble, briefly closing your eyes.

"And I am glad you feel that way," she replies, sounding amused. "Truly, you do not need to be upset for my sake. If it makes you feel better, I will do the same to anyone else who disrespects me."

You nod, keeping your eyes closed until you feel the mattress dip under her weight. When you open them, she is above you, strands of her hair tickling your cheeks. You notice she is wearing absolutely nothing, probably because she wasn't wearing undergarments to begin with.

"Loki," you breathe, reaching up and cupping the back of her head. "I love you."

She leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Which side of me do you prefer?" she whispers, so quietly you have to concentrate to hear it.

You put both arms around her, pressing her against you.

"Why don't you find out?" you whisper back, smiling mischievously.

She hesitates, then lifts her head to look at you. There's a questioning look in her eyes, but you don't clarify.

In a shimmer of green, your clothes are gone, too. Her gaze is more intense, boring into you as you slowly stroke her hair.

"Do you have a preference?" she asks.

You caress her face, tracing the contours. Slightly softer than her other form, but much the same.

"I have a preference for you," you say.

"Me?" she repeats, searching your face as she hovers over you.

You crane your neck up and lick at her lips. "You."

She shifts slightly, pressing her hips against yours. Her head dips down, her teeth grazing your jaw.

"You have a preference for this form?" she breathes by your ear.

"No." You quickly shake your head. "I have a preference for you."

She lifts her head again, gazing at you out of dilated green eyes. "Ah."

You smile softly, continuing to run your fingers through her hair. "I like how soft you are like this."

She gives you a curious look, almost absentmindedly grinding her hips down, her soft body pressed against you.

"Is it different for you when I am in this form?" she asks, making you gasp when she effectively slots herself between your legs.

"Obviously," you reply with a teasing smile, running your hands down her back and opening your legs further. "You do behave slightly differently, my beautiful shapeshifter."

Loki huffs out a sigh, grabbing your leg and propping it up so she can grind herself more effectively against you, nipping at your neck as punishment for the sentiment. 

You laugh breathlessly, running your fingers through her hair and then tugging on it as you press your hips up to meet her. If she wants it rougher, you can give that to her.

"I don't notice a difference," she says, grabbing your wrists and pinning them down beside your head. "I'll fuck you into submission either way."

You laugh again, arching up against her. "I know. You have your ways."

"Mm." She pulls back, darkness in her eyes. "Turn around."

You obey, rolling onto your stomach and lifting up on your knees and elbows. Her hands caress your hips, teasing further desire into you. You try to wiggle back against her, tempt her, but her grip only tightens.

"Have you ever thought about pleasing both versions of me at the same time?" she asks darkly, her fingers sliding between your legs and making you gasp.

"How... would that even work?" you question, rocking back against her and trying to get more.

She teases your entrance, covering her fingers in your slick before pushing two of them inside you.

"If you're a good girl," she answers, her hand pushing down on your shoulder until you lower your torso to the mattress.

"If both versions of me were here with you, would you like that?" she asks, steadily stroking your insides with her fingers while she holds your hips still with her other hand.

You squirm, gasping and clutching at the sheets. "I'd probably get overwhelmed with desire, like a dog presented with two equally appealing treats. I wouldn't be able to choose."

"And you don't have to," Loki's male voice suddenly says from in front of you.

Shocked, you lift your head, seeing him kneeling there, equally naked and jarringly masculine.

Loki behind you is still fucking you with her fingers, now grabbing hold of your hair and yanking your head back in a controlling grip. You gasp, your mind struggling to comprehend your desire for the two options suddenly before you.

"Is it... is it my birthday or something?" you wonder, your legs quivering and slick leaking out of you at the steady pleasure.

The Loki before you smiles coldly, watching you get fucked by his other form.

"No. I simply take care of my pets."

"My little dog, drooling over the treats presented to her," Lady Loki adds from behind you, still gripping your hair. "Perhaps you need a collar to learn to control yourself."

You only have a second to register her words before a leather collar appears around your neck, Loki's hand leaving your hair to pull it tightly closed.

The Loki before you regards you amusedly, reaching out and cupping your chin. "Sweet pet. Won't you show me how eager you are? Stick out your tongue and pant like a dog. Go on."

You are intensely flustered under both their attentions, staring uncertainly up at him. Lady Loki draws her fingers out of you, delivering a slap on your ass instead.

"Pet," she warns. "If you want anything out of this, you best obey."

That certainly motivates you, and although your face burns with embarrassment, you stick out your tongue and pant like a dog for them.

Loki smiles arrogantly, petting your head and scratching the top of it like he would a dog's. "Good girl. Now tell me: Which of us do you wish to pleasure first?"

You turn your head, looking behind you at the beautiful woman there, then back at the equally beautiful man before you. This is what you were talking about when you said you wouldn't be able to decide!

"I, uh..." you begin, but Lady Loki cuts you off.

"I don't think pets should talk. Do you?"

She's looking at the double, as if he were a separate person.

"I agree," he answers predictably, still scratching your head so pleasantly. "We might have to gag her if she doesn't learn."

It's humiliating and yet also arousing getting talked about like this, as if you were an object, or, well... a dog.

"I'd much rather see her tongue put to use," Lady Loki contradicts, gazing at you intensely.

You duck your head under the scrutiny, keeping your mouth shut and trying to communicate with your eyes that you'll be good.

"Do you want to pleasure me?" she asks softly, also petting your head now.

You tilt your head, trying to find a way to communicate just how strongly you desire that and much, much more.

"Something more?" male Loki asks with a smirk. "You truly can't decide, can you?"

You desperately shake your head, making them both laugh.

"I suppose you'll have to sample everything, then," Lady Loki says, retracting her hand from where she was petting you.

"Are you prepared to go all night?" male Loki asks.

You ponder this, knowing you'll be absolutely exhausted by the end. You nod enthusiastically.

"We'll be generous and pleasure you first," Lady Loki says.

"But then you must work for any further pleasure," male Loki adds.

You happily nod, and they laugh again.

"Lie back."

You drop down on the pillows, spreading out your limbs and looking at them with need.

They smile predatorily back at you, and then Lady Loki crawls forward and dips her head between your legs. You gasp and arch up when her tongue swipes over your clit.

Male Loki moves beside you, hooking his finger under your collar and drawing your head up toward him.

"Such a sweet pet." He licks his lips then dips down to kiss you.

You mewl, one arm slinging around his neck and one gripping at Lady Loki's hair. You bucks against her mouth, pressing her closer as she licks at you. At the same time, you open your own mouth, whimpering when Loki licks inside it.

Fingers slide inside you, others rub over your nipples, and you can't be bothered to figure out whose are which, because it feels so good and overwhelming. You clutch at them, bucking up your hips and kissing with desperation. Loki's tongue slides around yours and all over your pulsing clit.

Moaning loudly, you feel your peak approach, but just then, Lady Loki pulls away. Before you can complain, they switch places. You take a heavy breath as Loki moves down to devour you and Lady Loki leans over you. She presses first her soft breasts against you, and then get plush lips.

You gasp, bucking against Loki's tongue and tasting yourself on hers. The fingers are still inside you, pumping steadily and not letting your pleasure recede. Once more, you grab his hair and put your arm around her, writhing beneath them.

Lady Loki kisses you passionately, and Loki fucks you with his tongue until you come apart screaming. Your entire body tenses and shudders, your eyes rolling back as you ride out your pleasure. Desire burns hotly in your belly even when you go limp, gasping and slowly coming back to yourself.

They pull away, watching you with pleasure in their eyes.

"Do you have a preference yet?" Lady Loki asks, stroking your cheek as you come down. Loki's hand does the same with your thigh, already kindling new arousal.

"I... don't," you breathe, forgetting that you're not supposed to talk.

"Wait until I have you writhing on my cock," male Loki responds, eyes holding a dark promise.

You focus on him until Lady Loki swats at your other thigh.

"I can fuck you without one," she says. "And you won't have to choke on it to pleasure me."

You look at her and she brushes some of your hair from your face.

"What about it, hm?" she asks. "Do you want to make me cum?"

"Or would you rather I fuck you?" male Loki asks, still caressing your thigh.

You know the answer to that one, smiling as you get back on all fours. "Both."

Lady Loki laughs breathlessly, moving in front of you and stroking through your hair. Male Loki's hands move to your hips, pulling you into position. Lady Loki sits back against the headboard and gently pulls your head down while Loki nudges you with his hard cock. Your mind fills with blissful anticipation.

You dip down between her soft thighs and press your tongue between her slick folds. The second you do so, Loki presses his cock inside you, easily stretching your slick channel. They both gasp out in pleasure at the same time, and you shudder in bliss.

"You're such a good girl," Loki praises, holding onto your hips and slowly drawing out to push back in.

You swipe your tongue over her clit, gently lapping at it and feeling her fingers scratch over your scalp as she gasps softly.

"Such a good pet," she agrees between breaths. "So good with your tongue."

You moan helplessly at the praise, pressing your tongue into her and drinking up the moisture. She cants her hips up to meet you, holding you between her soft thighs as she takes her pleasure.

Behind you, Loki thrusts steadily into you, sliding one hand down to rub over your clit. You shudder and squeeze down around him, rocking yourself back on him to increase your own pleasure.

"You like this, don't you?" he murmurs, grunting softly. "To have both of me at the same time?"

You nod eagerly, dragging your tongue over her clit in the same motion. You feel one of them grasp at your hand, and you entwine your fingers with theirs. They hold you tightly, a hand on your hip, one stroking through your hair. You feel utterly loved between pleased moans and steady thrusts.

"Make me cum, pet," Loki instructs, his fingers rubbing over your clit.

You moan helplessly, bucking against them and trying your best to bring her pleasure with your tongue. Her fingers tighten in your hair, her breaths becoming choppy. Behind you, his breaths become equally labored, grunting as he pumps into you.

"That's it pet," she gasps. "Almost there-"

Her words break off into a gasp and she quivers against your mouth. At the same time, he snarls and snaps his hips inside you, his fingers furiously rubbing you.

"Norns, I can't hold back," he grits out and falls apart like his other self.

The sensation of both of them coming apart at the same time, one inside you and one against your tongue, immediately triggers your own release. Pleasure rocks through your mind and then your body, falling apart around Loki's cock and his fingers.

Panting, the three of you pull apart, but they quickly cradle you in their arms. Your back rests against a flat, muscled chest while your front is pressed against luscious curves and muscles hidden beneath softer skin. Their hands caress you, stroking hair from your sweaty face, wiping slick off your mouth.

"You're so good, pet," Lady Loki coos, gazing lovingly into your eyes.

"Did you enjoy that?" male Loki asks, leaning over your shoulder.

You nod enthusiastically, still catching your breath. "I love this so much. If it weren't so overwhelming, I'd want every day to be like this."

Both of them chuckle, a low rumble from behind you and a melodic sound from up front.

Lady Loki hooks a finger into your collar again, drawing you closer. You eagerly press into her curves, seeking her lips. She grants you a kiss while he plays with your hair, his other hand already sneaking back down to toy with your clit.

"I think you want to suck my cock now," he says lowly, teasing you and making you whimper.

Lady Loki draws back to speak. "I want to fuck you while you do so."

You nod, because you'd agree to anything at this point.

She smiles, pulling at your collar until you get back on all fours. They switch places, male Loki in front of you and Lady Loki disappearing somewhere behind you.

You hear her leave the bed and rummage through something, but Loki keeps your head in his grasp so you can't look. He smiles down at you, slowly allowing himself to recover for another round.

You hold his gaze, licking your lips in anticipation.

"You like being filled, don't you?" he teases, and you nod.

"Good, because I plan on doing that," Lady Loki suddenly says from behind you.

Finally, Loki lets you turn your head, and you almost do a double-take. Lady Loki has a harness around her hips and legs, and at its front is a sizable cock made of some sort of strange material you once again have to assume is from Midgard.

It doesn't look very realistic, but you think that's the point. It looks made to please, to fuck with.

"Wha-" you gasp, straining to look over your shoulder. "What is that?"

She chuckles, reaching out to soothingly place her hand on your back.

"Something to fill you up just the way you like it. You'll see."

"But why?" you can't help but ask. "You're good the way you are! You don't need that!"

She laughs again, positioning herself behind you and letting the fake cock prod at you.

"I need it to compete with the real one," she explains with amusement. "I know how much you like to be fucked this way. Just wait and see."

Being unable to properly see her, you turn your head back to Loki in front of you. His cock is hard again, his hand loosely wrapped around it. He arches an eyebrow at you when you look up at him.

"Is it different?" you ask, wondering how it will feel.

"Obviously," he answers with a slight smirk. "You're getting fucked by a woman, for one. Let me tell you, it is an experience worth having."

His hand moves to scratch over your head, his other angling his leaking cock toward your lips. Behind you, Lady Loki is gripping your hips, dragging the toy through your slick and over your clit.

Your jaw hangs open, your pleasure warring with your curiosity.

"You mean you've experienced it?" you ask, staring at him in disbelief.

He continues smirking, unfazed as he teasingly rubs his cock over your lips. "Of course. Why would I miss out on such an experience?"

Lady Loki slowly begins pressing inside you and you moan at the sensation of being spread open like this.

"What about you?" you ask, your words slightly muffled as he touches his cock to your lips. "Was it different from when a man fucked you?"

He gives you a patient smile, briefly relaxing his grip on your hair. At the same time, you are being filled so completely from behind, your eyes almost losing focus.

"While the gender of my partner matters nothing, the sexual experience is still different," he clarifies. "Although, I suppose if I am the one getting fucked, those differences are trivial. Now relax and enjoy it."

He drags your head down, your slack jaw eagerly enveloping his cock. You want to ask more, but the taste of him, and the sensation of her finally bottoming out inside you, clouds your mind with heady lust.

You moan loudly now that the toy is fully inside you, your walls clenching around it and your mouth sucking eagerly at Loki's cock.

He exhales audibly, feeling the vibrations of your moan. His fingers card through your hair, gently urging you further down. You oblige, feeling Lady Loki's hands steadily grip your hips, slowly drawing back out before angling her hips and perfectly thrusting against your pleasure spot.

"I told you I'm good at this," she says when you moan out again. "Did you think I wouldn't know how to fuck a sweet little slut in this form? No, pet, you will take me just as you do normally."

You moan loudly at her words, causing Loki to buck into your mouth and tighten his grip. You rock back against her, prompting her to slide her hand down and rub over your clit. She draws back out, angling her hips so perfectly and thrusting back into you. Your eyes flutter and you drool around his cock.

"That's a good slut," she praises, suddenly gripping your collar and pulling enough to choke you. "Taking us both. I'll make you cum again and again, and you will have to endure it."

You moan eagerly at her promise, mind going blank with bliss every time she thrusts inside you. At the same time, Loki applies pressure on your head, forcing you down on his cock as he pants in pleasure.

"Choke on it, pet," he growls, bucking against your throat. "Take me all the way."

You oblige, relaxing your throat and swallowing more of him down. It's hard with the way your entire body jostles at each thrust, and you accidentally scrape him with your teeth. He hisses, but only bucks further into your mouth.

Lady Loki lets go of your collar to make it easier for you, sliding her hand down to play with your breasts instead.

You drool around his cock, letting it fill your mouth and your throat and relishing in the musky taste. At the same time, your entire body jolts with each perfectly angled thrust, your mind going blank with bliss and your eyes rolling back.

"That's a good girl," Lady Loki coos, still swirling her fingers over your clit. "Cum for me."

You clench around the toy, shuddering, and when Loki gasps and bucks into your mouth, you fall apart silently.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you cum, rocking back against her and choking on the cock down your throat. Tears and drool run down your face, Loki's hand soothingly massaging your scalp as he fucks your mouth.

You drag heavy breaths in through your nose, letting him use you as he pleases, and you listen to their combined panting and the soft grunts of pleasure.

"Very good, pet," she praises, stilling her hips to let you recover. "Do you want more?"

You're dazed after your orgasm, but your lust has not receded. Slowly, you drag your mouth off of Loki's cock and look up at him while Lady Loki shifts inside you, already teasing you again.

He grunts, his face twisting at the denied pleasure, and you feel his fingers curl into your hair. Despite his painfully throbbing cock, he looks down at you, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"I want to ride you one way, while you fuck me from behind... the other way," you say as confidently as you can, staring directly into his eyes.

His lips part and his eyebrows arch. "Which... one of us?" he gets out between breaths.

You smile slightly. "That's for you to decide."

Gripping your hips, Lady Loki slowly draws out of you, sitting back. "I feel there is an obvious choice here."

You also sit back, smiling at her in agreement.

Loki moves away from the headboard, still slightly out of breath, but with a new hunger in his eyes. Once more, they switch places, the beautiful woman sprawling out on the pillows and gripping your hips to help you straddle her. Loki moves behind, his hands also landing on your hips and slowly stroking them up and down.

"I'll prepare you," he says. "Sit down and begin riding me while I do so."

You nod and position yourself to slowly sink down on the toy strapped to her legs, everything still slick from being inside you. You gasp at being filled from this angle, and Lady Loki shifts beneath you, watching you with lust filled eyes.

Loki's hands slide over your hips, hers up to your waist when you lean forward and kiss her. You rock yourself back and forth slowly, gasping into her mouth and getting caressed by her hands and tongue. She matches your rhythm, remaining slow and gentle, and Loki's hands slide backward, spreading you open for him.

His fingers touch your rear opening, now covered with generous amounts of a slick substance. Watching you rock back and forth, he carefully begins pressing one inside you, a little bit more each time you rock back.

You pant into her mouth, feeling her hand slide down to rub over your clit and help you open up to him. He thrusts his finger back and forth, then adds another one.

"You're such a good pet," he rasps, voice heavy with lust. "So perfect, giving all of yourself to me. You don't know what this does to me. To watch you fuck yourself on me while you let me take you from behind."

You moan loudly in approval of his words, drawing back from her lips with a gasp. Getting more desperate, you fuck yourself back on his fingers and on her toy cock. She adjusts her pace, rolling her hips up steadily and swirling her fingers over your clit to pleasure you.

Behind you, Loki continues stretching you on his fingers, occasionally growling impatiently. He gives short, rapid thrusts into you, pulling them apart gradually before adding a third. You're writhing helplessly between them, totally overcome with need.

Gasping, you drop your head down and lick at one of her breasts, flicking your tongue over her nipple until it stiffens. She gasps as well, bucking up into you, which in turn makes you cry out. This seems to be the end to Loki's patience, because he draws his fingers out and firmly grabs you instead.

You feel his cock press against you, also slick and so very hard. You shudder and let your mouth drop open when he begins pressing inside you, stretching you so wonderfully.

It's a slow, careful process, in which you simply stay there, slack-jawed as sensations overwhelm you. Both of them are panting, and judging by the choked off sounds he makes, it's just as good for him as it is for you.

Lady Loki keeps swiping your clit encouragingly, gently rocking into you and leaning up to nip at your lips and suck at your neck. You just tremble in place until he's fully speared you open, your muscles clenching around him and her.

He groans in satisfaction, needing a moment to steady himself as his cock impatiently throbs inside you. Panting, he bends over you and places one hand on the mattress beside his double's shoulder, the other pressing against your mouth.

His fingers are magically dry and clean again, and so you part your lips and let him press them inside. Moaning, you lick and gently bite at them, squirming between them and waiting for them to move.

Loki breathes heavily beside your ear, grunting as he slowly draws out. Lady Loki rocks into you again, caressing you and toying with your nipples and your clit. You're pretty much sandwiched between them, barely holding up your weight to ride her as Loki fucks back into you.

"Fuck..." he curses under his breath, rolling his hips a little harder.

"Loki," you gasp, desperate to get fucked into unconsciousness by both of them. "Take me."

They oblige, gradually speeding up and finding a rhythm against each other. You hear soft moans of effort from beneath you, trying to please you, and masculine grunts of restraint from beside you.

Your mind is scrambled as they fuck you, and you can hardly think whenever her fingers pluck at your nipples and rub over your clit. The only thought you can still muster is that you feel bad for her, since she is getting the least out of this. You are pretty sure she is getting _some_ pleasure, and obviously she is still linked with her double, but you want to do something for her nonetheless.

Gasping heavily, sweat beading on your brow, you rest your weight on one elbow and use the other hand to reach under you and press your fingers inside her. Her breath stutters and she appreciatively bucks up against your fingers, which pushes the toy inside you at the same time. It's all you can do, and this is how the three of you become one panting, moaning mess.

You completely lose track of everything around you, so overwhelmed by the two cocks inside you, the fingers on you, the ones pressed between your teeth, and the soft skin and slick heat around your own.

Pretty soon, you can't take it anymore, rocking back against them until you fall apart screaming. You shut your eyes tightly, biting down on the fingers in your mouth and letting your entire body clench and shudder in an orgasm like nothing you have felt in a while. It seems to last a while, and you hear both of their strangled moans, her walls clamping down around your fingers, and his cock thrusting deep inside you before it twitches and spills its seed.

All of you take a while to come down, bodies trembling and muscles contracting to wring out every last bit of pleasure. Finally, Loki draws his fingers out of your mouth and you draw yours out of her, and then you feel him slide wetly out of you. You just barely lift off the fake cock before you collapse on top of her.

She swiftly wraps her arms around you, panting softly and kissing the top of your head. The Loki behind you swipes his hand through the air and clears all the bodily fluids away before he falls sideways and disappears.

Immediately, Lady Loki inhales loudly, her exhaustion apparent. You, too are extremely exhausted, your gaze unfocused and your muscles completely limp.

"Was that... too much for you?" you wheeze, straining to look at her with your uncooperative muscles.

She shakes her head, but can't speak with how heavily she's breathing. You realize you probably need to be in charge of the aftercare for this one.

Straining, you lift off her and get off the bed, despite her protesting look. Immediately, your knees buckle, and she tries to reach for you. You manage to stand anyway, wobbling over to the bathroom. Quickly, you get a cup of water, drinking a little before filling it again, and then some wet towels.

You return and hand her the water, receiving a grateful look as she drinks. She had managed to clean up any of the truly nasty fluids, but the sweat remains on your and her skin, which you proceed to gently take care of. You also unbuckle her harness and toss the toy away, getting a slightly disapproving look, and remove your collar. Then, finally, you crawl back into bed and snuggle up beside her. You drink a bit more water and let her have the rest, and eventually, she manages to calm down.

"How was that for you?" you ask, still a little concerned.

She regards you out of clear green eyes.

"If I didn't think I could do it, I wouldn't have done it," she replies with not a hint of modesty.

You laugh in relief, brushing some of her hair out of her face. "Was it weird? Being both at the same time?"

To your surprise, she nods. "It was strange, but not necessarily uncomfortable. Both versions are a part of me, always. I just had to bring them both out."

"And right now?" you ask. "What do you feel like now that you're just one again?"

She gives you a haughty look. "I was always just one. I simply had two bodies. For your pleasure, mind you."

You pout. "And yours! Don't pretend."

She cracks a smile. "Mm, indeed. That was quite delicious, pet. Letting me fuck you like that. And to answer your question, I did this because I felt comfortable with both right now. Do you have a preference yet?"

You laugh and shake your head at her insistence. "Loki, I don't think that's possible. When I look at you like this, I think that obviously women are more attractive, but as soon as you shift back, I completely change my mind. I don't think it's really about me having a preference, and simply about me finding you way, way too attractive. I'd probably find you attractive no matter what form you're in."

She scowls slightly, thinking over your words. "Even if I were to turn into a horse?"

Your eyes widen. "What?! No! Why would you-"

At her grin, you stop talking, and glare at her instead. She laughs aloud at that, and now you're the one scowling.

"Don't you dare turn into an animal," you warn. "Or I'll be the one putting a collar on you."

She only smiles, heaving herself up and stretching a little. "I wouldn't mind that, pet."

You groan and roll your eyes. "Of course you wouldn't."

Just then, your eyes once more land on the harness and the toy you had thrown on the floor. Suddenly, you are struck by enlightenment.

"Hey, Loki," you say, just as she gets up to head to the bathroom.

"Yes?" She goes inside, freshening up a little.

"That toy you used. That's for women to use, right? To… to fuck people with."

You know you must sound rather ignorant, but it isn't like you've ever had the chance to explore such devices. You didn't even know such a thing existed until tonight.

"For anyone who does not possess a penis, but still wishes to penetrate their partner," she corrects. "Women aren't the only ones who use it. Why do you ask?"

You stare at the device, suddenly very eager for adventure.

"You know..." you say as she returns to the bedroom. "What if I wanted to wear it sometime?"

She stops in her tracks, staring at you.

You slowly raise your gaze toward her, grinning mischievously. "What if I wanted to put it on and... use it on you? Fuck you for once?"

Her eyes are widened, a slightly flustered look on her face. "Ah, well. I suppose-"

"You said you let women fuck you in the past," you remind her, grinning. "If you don't want me getting jealous, I want the same opportunity."

Briefly, she just stares at you, and then she sighs in defeat. "I never thought the day would come," she mutters, striding over and picking up the toy. It vanishes from her hand, and then she joins you on the bed.

"Alright," she finally agrees, although she makes it look like she's greatly burdened by this. "If you must, sweet wife. I'll let you fuck me, but only once. And you must choose which form you wish to take me in."

You grin in triumph, knowing very well her reluctance is mostly just her ego getting in the way. "Does that mean you'd let me take you in your male form? You know what that means, right?"

She glowers at you, pulling up the blanket over the two of you.

"I'm not ignorant, pet; of course I know," she answers snidely. "You'll have to follow my instructions to the letter, otherwise we are not even considering this."

You pout a little. "That's unfair! You get to fuck me, and you let other women fuck you, so why not me? What's wrong with me doing it?"

She laughs, regarding you with amusement.

"I mean no offense, pet," she begins, and you already glare at her, "but you are not exactly the type to... you know."

She smirks and gestures vaguely.

"You mean I'm not dominant enough!" you huff, crossing your arms.

"Precisely," she agrees with an arrogant smile. "You are more suited to submit. The women I was with... They certainly knew how to tame me."

That's it! If she wants to be tamed, you can do that. Before you can really think about what you're doing, you've raised your hand and slapped her across the face. Not very hard, of course, just hard enough.

Immediately, she gasps, her head titled in the direction of the slap and her pupils dilated.

You feel a moment of panic, of regret, but then you see her expression, and you realize you've been manipulated. You fluster, trying to decide whether to be mad or to apologize.

"Sorry, I- I should have asked first," you mumble, feeling your face grow hot.

Smiling, she gently takes your hand, entwining her fingers with yours. "It's alright. I was goading you. It seems you have potential, after all."

"I'll dominate that arrogance right out of you," you promise confidently.

She chuckles, finally wrapping you in her arms and moving you both to lie down properly. With a gesture, the candles in the room go out, leaving you in darkness.

"I'm sure you'll try, darling, but not tonight. I have duties tomorrow, and I cannot have us both limping around the palace."

You laugh at that, snuggling in close to her and burying your face in her soft hair. Her fingers are still entwined with yours, and like that, you fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh... Anyone want to peg Loki? Just me...?


End file.
